


The Storm Will Wash My Sins Away

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Almost a Stalker Dwalin, Almost a Stalker Thorin, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe-Mafia, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Bilbo, Bilbo Has Issues, Bilbo Is Awesome, Bilbo POV, Books are the saving grace of everything!, Bookworm Bilbo, Comfort/Angst, Creepy Thorin, Drive By Shootings, Erebor is messed up, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gang Violence, Het and Slash, Invasion of personal space, Kíli Is a Little Shit, Later not so creepy..., Literary References & Allusions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mafia boss Thrain, Ori owns an Orphanage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Addiction, References to Drugs, Sassy Bilbo, Sassy Ori, Teacher Bilbo, Thorin's actually adorably cute and romantic, True Love, Uncle-Nephew Rivalry, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Teacher-Student Relationship, Unwanted Courtship, but not really, cuz I like happy endings...shoot me, non-con kissing, references to alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 83,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins just wanted a normal life. But that’s a little hard to have when a man is bleeding in the alley beside his apartment building…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To Kilbo fans: This is a bagginshield. Kili's love for Bilbo is genuine, but it is unrequited.

Entering the school itself took _far_ too much stamina and effort than it should. But everyone had to start somewhere. Even Bilbo. With a sigh, he pushed himself up the steps into the one story brick building. He reminded himself that it could be worse: he could still have to deal with his greedy relatives back in the country. True, Bilbo agreed things had to be pretty bad if he was willing to make his first teaching job at _Erebor High School_ in the city of _Erebor._

Well known for its criminal activity, Erebor was Sodom and Nineveh reborn and rolled into one. Every crime and sin you can think of was committed to some degree here. But the place was hiring and the school expressed their desperation for a teacher who could relate to the teenagers.

Honestly, Bilbo wasn’t sure if he _could_ relate to them. He liked school when he was a student and he _adored_ literature. Books, he supposed, had saved him in his darkest days when his mother passed, leaving him to just his father and his father’s horrid drinking.

(Bungo’s alcoholism stirred Bilbo in the direction to avoid alcohol all together. Bungo may not have been abusive, but alcoholism destroying his father was enough for Bilbo to not want anything to do with it. In the end, it was a wrecked liver that took his father’s life. To his mother, though? Bilbo was sure if Belladonna was alive, she’d have a few things to say about Bungo’s neglect of their son. Bilbo decided it could be worse. He was lucky their family was rich.)

The teachers here thought him a good choice because he understood brokenness. He understood neglect. He just chose not to seek solace outside of his books unlike other teenagers who were neglected, who sought comfort in all the wrong ways. For Bilbo, it was all about the Brontë Sisters and Steinbeck. Sometimes Dickinson, Hughes, and Plath. His new employer, he guessed, hoped he could spread his love of literature to the students. But as far as Bilbo was concerned, not one of his students made any real effort toward the subjects he liked best.

Bilbo entered his classroom and unpacked his satchel. Slowly, students filed in, chatting and joking. Some sat on their desks, others in their seats, and still others stood. He scanned the room, searching for a telltale mess of black hair…

 _There’s the maggot_ , he thought when he found Kili Durin walk into the room. Bilbo _swore_ the boy _lived_ to make his life difficult for him. From a rubber band being snapped at him, messing with his desk, switching his meals…

Kili lead the senior class. The brat thought himself charming, cool, “popular.” As far as Bilbo was concerned, Kili was simply put up with because he was the “Mayor’s” grandson (Bilbo doubted that Thrain Durin was _ever_ voted to office. But he certainly owned Erebor. That much was undebatable). Kili strove to do the opposite of what Bilbo asked (well, these days it was more ordered) and the brat _loved_ making authority figures want to rip their hair out. How he got away with it when his grandfather was a crime boss…well, Bilbo guessed he learned that certain types of authority—ie: teachers—didn’t deserve his respect. Or there was too much pressure at home. Or both. Bilbo was certain it was both. Still, it couldn’t give the twerp the right to make him want to _strangle_ him nearly every day.

Bilbo took a calming sigh, smoothed out his button-up white shirt, and approached the front of the room. “Take your seats,” he snarled. (It was sad that he had to go to such drastic measures to get even a _little_ bit of respect.) Students slid off their desks and within a minute everyone was in his or her seat. Not Kili, he sat on his desk in the back of the room cross-legged. Bilbo’s temple pulsed, but he inhaled and exhaled, ignoring Kili.

The beginning of the lesson was fine. And he calmed a little bit as he got a discussion on Plath’s poems going (currently they were discussing _Daddy_ ). However, toward the end of it there was some gunfire and they slid to the ground. Bilbo ground his teeth.

 _I fucking_ hate _this town!_ He thought before checking to make sure the students were fine.

Then it was Kili’s turn. “Are you all right, Kili?” Bilbo asked stiffly.

Kili smirked at him from the floor and stretched. “M’fine, Mr. Boggins,” Kili answered with a yawn.

Bilbo tried not to let that flare his temper. Oh, the boy _knew_ his last name was _Baggins_ at this point in the school year. He just chose to continue calling him “Boggins” for whatever fucking stupid reason. He gave up correcting Kili after three days, deciding it simply wasn't worth the effort.

Three raps on the door alerted them to a presence and the principal stepped in. Balin clapped his hands behind his back and surveyed the room. “Everyone all right?” he asked.

“We’re all accounted for and a bit shaken up,” Bilbo said.

“Of course,” Balin said. “Quite understandable. Mr. Durin, your car’s waiting outside. Everyone else, be careful on your way home today.”

Kili groaned, getting to his feet. “Will we get tomorrow off too?”

“Not likely,” Balin said, narrowing his eyes at him.

Kili smirked and shifted his gaze to Bilbo. “See you tomorrow Mr. Boggins.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and ran out the door. The others also bade him goodbye and left, some together on wobbly legs and some laughing it off.

Bilbo collapsed into a desk when the room was empty save for him and Balin. “I can’t do this…”

“What are you talking about?” Balin asked. “You’re doing just fine. The students like you, and that is more than I can say for the past English teachers they’ve had.”

“It’s not just the school and the students,” Bilbo said. “It’s the drive-bys and the fucking turf wars and the…I don’t understand how you could think _I_ could relate to these kids! I can’t! They put the barest effort into anything and there’s constant anarchy and—”

“But it’s that they _put_ any effort into their work at all for this class that is the success, Bilbo,” Balin said. “They like you.” He chuckled. “And with as much as you complain about Kili, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he might have a crush on you.”

“You are _not_ encouraging that,” Bilbo snarled. “Kili’s the _worst_! I tell him to sit in his seat, he sits on his desk. I assign something to be due at the _beginning_ of class, he turns it in at the end, I say ‘essay’ he writes a _fiction_ piece—” Okay that last one was a lie, but Bilbo felt beyond reason at the moment.

“But he listens _and_ participates. It’s far more than he’s done for _any_ of his teachers. You’re doing your best to not let him push your buttons. Don’t get so down, it’s only February, Bilbo.”

“Only February?!” Bilbo parroted. “ _Only_ —Balin, I’ve been here for six fucking months and I feel as though everything has fallen apart since coming here! This is _not_ what I was hoping my teaching career will start off as!”

Balin patted his shoulder. “You’re doing better than you think. It’s just a few more months and then you’ll have the summer to relax and enjoy. And spring break is just around the corner. It’ll be here before you know it.”

Bilbo removed his square glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing shakily. Tears he hoped to keep at bay escaped his lashes and spilled down his cheeks.

“Buck up, Bilbo,” Balin said. “Come on, there’s a pot of tea waiting in the lounge. Go freshen up and we’ll save a cup for you when you come in. Okay?”

Bilbo nodded, reaching for his pocket handkerchief. Tea sounded great. Wonderful even. But he just wanted to go home and crawl back into bed and _never_ come out of it. Balin left him in peace and he set his glasses on the desk.

 _How more embarrassing can it get when you have an emotional breakdown in front of your boss?_ He thought, furious with himself.

He didn’t notice the other presence until a hand touched his cheek. Bilbo gasped, reaching for his glasses. Another hand pinned his wrist to the desk and someone straddled his lap. Lips pressed against his mouth roughly.

He squawked, pulling his hand free and shoving whoever it was off. He scrambled for his glasses but by the time he managed to put them on without poking his eyes out, his assailant was gone.

#

Home was a tiny flat a few blocks from the school and easily walking distance. It was a six story, old, dingy building complete with creaking floorboards and roaches in the walls. It was right beside a chiropractor, and a tiny hole in the wall diner stood across the street.

On the way, a storm hit. It wasn’t thunderous or anything like that, but Bilbo figured it fit his mood and he slightly swayed on his way home. It was just one of those days. He’d laugh someday about his penchant for the dramatic, Bilbo was quite certain of that. He was also aware he might very well make himself sick for not having an umbrella with him, despite how good his windbreaker was against the weather. He pushed that thought aside with the promise of hot tea and a much desired bath.

He was almost home anyway. He glanced down the alley by the door and halted. A man leaned against the wall, clutching his arm in a tight grip. His hand was drenched in red that was staining his suit’s sleeve. His black hair was pulled into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. He was also shivering. Bilbo entered the alley.

“Hey, mate, you need help?” Bilbo asked, kneeling to look at him better.

The man looked up at him, bright blue eyes burying into Bilbo’s. “No.”

“What do you mean no?” Bilbo’s eyes shifted to the injured arm. “You’re bleeding. You need the hospital—”

“ _No_ ,” the man snarled. “Trust me, that’s not going to help much…do you have a first aid kit?”

“I do. It’s inside my place…”

“How about a sewing kit?”

“I…well, yes…but why would I need that?”

“Let me in, then. I’ll walk you through it,” he said, trying to stand. He closed his eyes, groaning. Bilbo pulled him onto his shoulders, half carrying him into his building. He hoped he didn’t receive any odd stares from his neighbors. So far, so good.

He led the man into his apartment and helped him into a chair in the kitchen when he went to fetch his first aid kit, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and his sewing kit.

“Okay,” he said, “Tell me what to do.”

“Help me get my shirt off." Bilbo stood in front of him and pushed the jacket off before he unbuttoned the light blue shirt. He peeled it off the man’s injured shoulder and winced at the wound.

“What did this to you?”

“Gunshot. Bullet went clean through,” the man said, snorting. “Fuckin’ lucky it didn’t get my heart.” Bilbo ignored him, mopping up the blood with cotton balls dipped in rubbing alcohol. The man groaned. “Careful, will you!”

“Don’t whine,” Bilbo snapped. “I’m not a doctor, so give me a break. I’m doing the best I can.”

The man stared at him with his intense blue eyes then gave his next instruction: sewing the holes closed. Bilbo wasn’t sure his hands were steady enough for this, but he sterilized the needle and strung the thread through it. The man gripped his ruined shirt in a death grip through the stitching. Bilbo dabbed more rubbing alcohol on the wounds and pressed gauze to one stitching and taped it down before doing the same to the exit wound. Once that was done, Bilbo tossed out the used swabs and closed the kits.

“Anything else?”

“Something to eat and some blankets for rest would be good.”

“Are you sure you’re fine? That you don’t need the hospital?”

The man smirked at him. “Thank you, but I’m fine. Something to eat would help and the blankets will keep me warm until the storm lets up. That is all. And can I use of your phone? I need to call my man so he can get me.”

Bilbo nodded and pulled out some leftovers from the previous night, heating it in the microwave for his unexpected guest. The man struggled to keep awake, head dropping to his chest. Bilbo swore and slapped the man’s cheeks. “Stay awake. Food’s warming up now. Let me get you a blanket…”

Bilbo left, quickly fetching one of the warm throw blankets he had. He wrapped it around the man’s shoulders and retrieved the food. He set it in front of the man. “Here,” he said. The man didn’t move. Bilbo swore and slapped him again.

“Will you stop doing that?” The man snapped.

“If you would stop trying to fall asleep, I wouldn’t have to!”

“I’m _not_ trying. It’s the blood loss. That’s all.”

Bilbo scoffed. “So you say, but I’m not going through all _this_ just to have you die on me because you were too stubborn to go to the hospital.” The man snorted and stabbed the chicken and mashed potatoes left over.

“I’m Thorin, by the way,” he said after swallowing.

Bilbo stared at Thorin, unsure what to make of it. He held his hand out. “Bilbo.” Thorin’s hands were still cold. “You might…I don’t have any spare clothes that’ll fit you, but you should…” Bilbo blushed. “Like I said, I don’t want you to die of hypothermia or blood loss after all I did to keep you from bleeding out in the alley.”

“I’m aware that would be rather unfortunate,” Thorin said, taking another bite. “I’ll still have to call my man…and I’m sorry for asking this of you, but could you put me up for the night?”

Bilbo sighed. “I guess I could…my landlord’s not really going to like you bleeding all over the place, though, and you really should see a doctor.”

“You did just _fine_ ,” Thorin assured him. “Are you a doctor yourself?”

“I’m a teacher,” Bilbo said. “Why would I insist you see a doctor if _I_ was one myself?”

“That does make sense…What do you teach?”

“Why so interested?”

“I’m trying not to fall asleep. Talking to you helps. And you’re intriguing, which is more than I can say about anyone else I know in this town.” Bilbo sighed and told him about his job. “Why Erebor? Can’t be an easy choice?”

“The alternative is being harassed by nosy neighbors and greedy relatives,” Bilbo said. “My family’s decently wealthy, but I’m supposedly the ‘heir’ of the estate, so I have relatives wanting to get their hands on my inheritance and shit. It was easier to just hand over what I didn’t need to be put to a good use and leave the rural setting for this one. Most of what’s left of it is gone now, but its fine: I get paid to babysit punks. Not a _great_ salary, true, but it gets me through the months, pays the bills and rent…”

“Seems like your students are a handful.”

Bilbo scoffed. “You have _no_ idea.”

“Have you always wanted to teach?”

“I used to love the idea of ‘enriching young minds.’ But…” Bilbo leaned back. “Kind of hard to do when said minds refuse to cooperate.”

Thorin smiled. “But you stick with it.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be leaving when my lease is up. The school year will be done by then.”

Thorin’s smile vanished. “Why?”

“I hate it here. Like I said: my students aren’t exactly cooperative. Half of them are failing anyway…It’s far from encouraging. Besides, as you know, there was a driveby shooting at the school near the end of first period. Then while students were being dismissed, I…” Bilbo bit his lip and stared at the tabletop. “I think living for a year in a place this… _damaged_ is enough. It’ll be a bitch moving again, but…” Bilbo fell silent, drumming his fingers against the counter.

“It can’t all be bad,” Thorin said.

“How can you say that?” Bilbo snapped at him. “You were bleeding to death just a few minutes ago!”

Thorin shrugged. “Not the first time I’ve been shot. I’m used to it. It gets…easier, I suppose.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I don’t agree. I’d rather not be here at all…”

“It can’t all be bad,” Thorin said softly. Bilbo didn’t look up. “It’s not like anything bad has happened to you yet.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t, but trust me when I say I know what it would look like if things have really been bad for you in Erebor. They aren’t. You aren’t ending up like me, last I checked. You aren’t bleeding to death in any alleys. You aren’t getting shot at and you don’t seem to have enemies.”

“I would say my students work hard to be enemies.”

“Trust me, this is a rough town. If they saw you as an enemy, they wouldn’t just tease like they do. You’d know it.” Bilbo froze. He didn’t want to remember the assault from earlier. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he lied. Thorin stood, wincing. He swayed and balanced himself on the table. “Need help?”

“Nah. I got it,” he said, heading to the living room. He dropped the throw onto the couch and unfastened his belt. Bilbo blushed, facing away from him.

Bilbo wondered what possessed him to bring Thorin into his apartment. And how the events after _that_ could lead to him having him—tall, buff, scruffy, furry, sexy—strip out of his remaining clothes and settle down onto the couch.

_How is this my life?_

“So…um…that phone call…” Bilbo said, standing and fetching the phone to hand Thorin. He tried to avoid looking at Thorin though he had covered himself in the blanket again when he gave him his cell phone.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Bilbo replied staring at Thorin’s feet. They were actually a little small by comparison. But Bilbo couldn’t really say much about that: his family always had big feet.

Thorin sat down, dialing a number. He leaned forward and Bilbo saw him visibly shiver. The hairs on his legs and arms were standing on end and Bilbo could see goosebumps.

“Would you like another blanket?” he asked. Thorin glanced at him and bit his lip, hesitation in his eyes. Then he nodded. Bilbo went to fetch another throw.

 _You are leaving at the end of the year,_ he reminded himself. _Besides, he was_ shot _. He probably has enemies and probably is part of Erebor’s "underground." Maybe._ He lay the throw on Thorin’s shoulders.

“Yeah…Yeah…Sure, I’ll see you in the morning then… _Yes,_ you should get Oin…well, I don’t think I’m dying anymore…No! No, don’t worry them. Tell them I needed a bit of space. They’ll believe that…What about the orphanage? It’s paying us what they owe, so don’t do—oh…he is? He _does_? Tell Dwalin to back off and give the guy his space…I’ll deal with it when I get home tomorrow…goodbye.” He hung up and handed Bilbo his phone back. “Thank you.”

Bilbo nodded, taking the phone away. His hands shook. Who _is_ this man? What was…he shuddered. “So…um…bathroom is the first door down the hall on the right.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you want more blankets? A pillow?”

“No, thank you.”

“O-okay,” Bilbo said. He retreated to his room and locked the door. _No. Nonono, it’s not like he’s one of the mafia, Bilbo, so calm down. He’s probably a debt collector…no, more like a landlord. Calm down, Bilbo! Just calm down!_

He stripped out of his wet clothes, shivering at the cold air wrapped around him and quickly dressed into warm sweats and sweater. Bilbo climbed into his bed and pulled the covers over his head. He wanted to sleep or rest or _anything_ that would get his mind off of today’s horrors.

 _Brighter side, Baggins,_ he told himself, _you could be dead._

He reminded himself he could die if he didn’t find a way to warm up and that, in retrospect, the blankets might not be enough for Thorin either. Bilbo sighed and opened the door. Thorin was still shivering on the couch. He cleared his throat and Thorin looked at him from underneath them.

“Look, we’re both cold and we’re both not going to warm up anytime soon. We may as well help each other out.”

“Are you inviting me to your bed?” Thorin asked, the corner of his tugging upward into a smirk.

“Yes—no!” Bilbo groaned, running a stiff hand through his hair. “Not in the usual sense.”

“Not the ‘usual’ sense. Understood.” Thorin stood and followed Bilbo to his room. Bilbo stripped down, back facing Thorin and hoping that the man was courteous enough to let Bilbo undress with some sense of privacy. He sat on the bed and Thorin followed, letting the blankets fall off him before climbing in after Bilbo.

“Um…this may be a little awkward, but we’ll warm up faster if we’re closer together,” Bilbo said. Thorin’s cold hands pulled him closer. Bilbo almost squawked. Thorin was colder than he thought and they shivered.

“You wouldn’t happen to be gay, would you?” Thorin asked.

“What?! Why would you assume—”

“It’s just a question.”

Bilbo harrumphed. “Yes, I’m gay. That won’t make any of this less awkward. Why do you ask?” Thorin pulled Bilbo closer still. Bilbo placed his hand between them, meaning to demand to know what it was Thorin was doing—

_Cold lips. Very soft. What the fuck just happened? Oh, fuck! So cold. Shoulder wound. Why’s he pushing me onto my back—STOP!_

Bilbo pushed him off and scooted away. “This,” he said, “was a bad idea. Look, Thorin, you’re very…” Bilbo blushed. “Well, you’re certainly…attractive, but I just…I’m not…”

“Do I frighten you?”

The question caught Bilbo off guard. He blinked at Thorin a few times before he could had a suitable answer. “Not as much as you should. I found you bleeding in an _alley_ for God’s sake! The Durin family is probably after you or something or you were mugged or—what’s so funny?”

Thorin propped himself up on his arms. “Bilbo, I wasn’t shot by the Durin family. Nor was I mugged. I am the eldest of the Trio.”

Bilbo blinked. It sounded familiar but he…he wasn’t sure what that was…“The Trio? I’m afraid I’m confused.”

“Thrain Durin is my father.”

Bilbo gaped at him, opening and closing his mouth. If he already wasn’t so cold, he’d probably shiver at this revelation. Thorin was related to Thrain. Making him Kili’s…uncle? Yes. Uncle. His student’s uncle was in his bed, naked save for a pair of boxers, and had tried to pin him down and had kissed him. Had lain on the ground beside his apartment building. Had bled on the floor and instructed Bilbo to stitch him up. Was freezing cold.

“Could you get back here?”

“You’re part of the mafia.”

“Yes, I think we established that fact just a couple seconds ago,” Thorin sighed. “Now get over here. I’m freezing and as you said before, it’d be a pity for you to have saved my life only for me to die of hypothermia. I won’t try anything again. Scout’s honor.”

Bilbo gulped, but scooched back over to Thorin, letting him be embraced and embraced back. True to his word, Thorin didn’t try anything again. He tucked his head beneath Bilbo’s holding him a little tighter than Bilbo would have liked, but decided that he was cold and if he wanted to… _hurt_ Bilbo in any way, he would have already. Bilbo’s hands touched welted scars.

“What are these?”

Thorin’s breath tickled his neck. “From the past,” he said. “I’ve been getting injured for what seems as long as I’ve been alive. A gun shot is nothing new.”

Bilbo shuddered. “This is the only time,” he decided. “After…after this, I want you to leave. I don’t want to get tied up with the mafia in any way. So please, when you’re man comes to get you tomorrow, that’s it. You leave. And you never come here again.”

He bit his lip, tensing when Thorin’s grip tightened around him and buried his face in Bilbo’s chest. He could almost feel Thorin’s frown. A foot pressed against his leg. “Understood,” he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo woke to a warm, but empty, bed. There was still an indent in the pillow that Thorin used once they had warmed up enough to not need to share each other’s heat. There was a note on the pillow:

_You asked me to stay away from you. I said I understood, but after some reflection, I decided not to stay away. I do understand your caution, but I find myself intrigued by you, Bilbo Baggins. I will pick you up at six-thirty to take you to the Carrock Casino for dinner tonight. I would like to thank you again, at the very least.—Thorin Durin_

He crumpled the note in his fist, shifting to lay on his back. He had half a mind to defy Thorin’s orders and refuse to go. But if he was being picked up, he might not have any choice…

Bilbo didn’t want any trouble. Getting involved with Thorin meant getting involved with the mafia. He could teach Kili…he could teach any other child from Mafia families if they were sent to school, but his involvement stopped _there_. Going to dinner with Thorin was far more involved than Bilbo wanted.

With the same tired reluctance he felt every school day, he got out of bed and went through his morning ritual mechanically. He locked the door behind him and exited the apartment, heading for the school. He adjusted the satchel draped across his torso so to stuff his hands in his pockets, staring at the wet, murky grey sidewalk beneath him. He heard the sirens several blocks over. When he first moved to Erebor, the constant sound of police sirens worried him. Now he could block it out without trouble or curiosity gnawing away. He simply stopped caring.

A car slid to a halt beside him and a window rolled down. “Mr. Boggins!” Bilbo’s shoulders dropped and turned to Kili. “Want a ride?”

“Why are you going to school so early?” Bilbo asked, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

“I was going to get some coffee first,” Kili answered. “Don’t you do the same?”

“I prefer tea.”

“Whatever works for you,” Kili said. “C’mon. My treat.”

“Thank you, Kili, but I’ll just get my own tea at school. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Bilbo continued on his way. He heard the car door open and close.

“I’ll be fine, Fili. See you later!” Kili jogged to catch up to Bilbo. Bilbo sighed.

 _Don’t you torment me enough at school? You have to do this off campus now?_ Bilbo shook his ire away and forced himself to relax. “I thought you were getting coffee.”

“I’ll live,” Kili said, shrugging, walking backwards. “Besides, it’s rare to run into a teacher outside of school. Especially in this town. I see Balin a lot though. His brother’s my uncle’s right hand man and then there’s Bofur, my other uncle’s right hand and then my dad, who’s my mom’s bodyguard…and you probably don’t care about any of that.”

“Not particularly,” Bilbo said. Kili’s grin faltered.

“Is something wrong, Bilbo?”

Bilbo glared at him. “Until you can pronounce my _last_ name correctly, you’ve no right to use my first.”

Kili faked a shiver. “Don’t be so cold, Mr. _Baggins_. It’s all just fun.”

“You think what you do is _fun_?!” Bilbo shouted. Kili’s easy grin slid to a pouting frown. Bilbo sighed, covering his face behind a hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“You’re right,” Kili said. Bilbo lowered his hands and stared at him. Kili shifted to walk beside him. “It should be fun for you too. Everyone actually really likes you, Mr. Boggins. You’re strict but you act like you care unlike most of the other teachers. And you’re cool. If it counts, you’re my favorite teacher so far, Mr. Boggins.”

“You aren’t going to stop that, aren’t you?”

“No. Not really,” Kili admitted. “But think of it as an affectionate nickname instead of an insult. Okay?” Bilbo sighed. “What?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s _not_ a compliment Kili.”

“Sweet talker.”

“ _Kili_!”

“What?” Kili asked. Bilbo glared at him. “Don’t you have a sense of adventure, Mr. Boggins? Or are those cardigans too tight on you? Must be given how serious you are.”

“It’s not that I’m…” Bilbo let the sentence trail off. “Kili, you test and try your teachers too much.”

“I’m not _that_ bad. My brother was worse. But then again, he dropped out and works for grandpa now. I actually don’t want anything to do with my family.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“What? I get bored at school.”

“So you drive your family up the wall too?” Bilbo asked.

“Yep,” Kili said cheerfully. “Every one of them. Except Fili. Fili just laughs at all of it. Grandpa threatened to disown me a few times in the past. My first girlfriend was a cop’s daughter too. And my first boyfriend’s mom was a lawyer.”

“Get around, hm?” Bilbo teased, a small smile tugging up. Kili shrugged.

“Can’t say, only dated a couple times. None of them lasted that long because of my connections with the mob. So I just stopped dating all together a couple years ago. No one wants their kid to be dating a Durin. Parents don’t seem to see past the mafia thing.”

“It’s a bit hard to get past,” Bilbo admitted. “You can’t really blame them for worrying after their children.”

“No,” Kili said. “But I would like them to see _me_ instead of my family’s legacy. Kind of like how you do, Mr. Boggins.” Kili grinned at Bilbo’s confused expression.

“I…beg your pardon?”

“Most of my teachers cut me slack because of my family. You don’t. You never have all year. Here we are!” He stopped outside Lonely Mountain Coffee Co. Kili seized Bilbo’s wrist and pulled him inside. There weren’t many people in the shop. A few men in sunglasses in the back stood around a table where a blond sipped a cappuccino out of mug. Kili whistled and the blond looked up. At first, he seemed annoyed, but then he grinned and them. “That’s my brother,” he whispered to Bilbo, “Fili.”

“Right…”

They got in line. “Mr. Durin,” a man behind the counter said. “Your usual?”

“Yes, Dori. To go.” He turned to Bilbo. “Are you _sure_ you don’t want anything? Dori has the _best_ tea selection in Erebor. Mum loves them.”

“Er…”

“Today’s selection is orange cinnamon,” Dori added.

Bilbo found that less helpful than it should. He sighed. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, but _no_ , Kili, I don’t want you paying for me.”

“Why not? I wouldn’t be. Grandpa would be.”

“That’s _worse_!” Bilbo snapped.

“Oh relax,” Kili said, handing a platinum card to Dori. “He won’t care.”

“Your grandfather doesn’t care about _a one-and-a-half-pound cup of_ _tea_.”

“Why would he? We’re filthy rich. Besides, this place is one of the few I like. Not just because the food and coffee’s good but because about a third of the money made, once rent and other fees Dori needs to pay off are taken care of, go straight to the Orphanage his brother runs. It’s not much, but it allows the kids to eat decently and everything else is by donation.”

“Is the Orphanage a…a subsidiary of your family?”

“No. Not…really…Most shop owners and the like do have to pay my family some sort of sum, and we have loan sharks too…but the orphanage is in one of the safest neighborhoods in town because it’s run by my uncle Thorin. Apart from a ‘rent,’ he makes sure that the orphanage is well kept and protected. He’s not the caretaker though: Dori’s little brother Ori is.”

He remembered the conversation Thorin had on the phone the night before. “What if…what if someone posed a threat to the orphanage?” Kili sighed.

“There’d be no place for whoever dared to safe enough from Thorin. My uncle’s fiercely protective of the people he loves and who are under his care. The orphanage _especially_ because it’s filled with kids. One time, there was a war on the streets from the Gundebad Syndicate and my uncle went ballistic! Ran through a storm of bullets with just a broken oak branch trunk to get a better shot at Azog Gundebad’s head when he was about my age now.” Dori set the drinks before them and handed a warmed pastry to Kili. “Thanks Dori.”

“Take care now,” he said as they retreated back outside into the brisk February air. Bilbo took a sip of his tea. The sharp sweet tang of oranges and cinnamon attacked his senses and he nearly cried from the flavors assaulting his tongue. It wasn’t too hot and it wasn’t lukewarm.

 _Two quid of_ this _is worth every penny_ , he thought. Kili tore into his pastry—a raspberry scone—and popped it in his mouth.

“Are all his teas this good?” Bilbo asked. Kili swallowed.

“Wouldn’t know. I prefer his macchiatos. Mum likes his tea selections, though. She’s always drinking some tea from the Lonely Mountain.” Bilbo decided to leave out that Kili had already told him his mother liked the tea. But he would agree that the tea was worth it, though.

“I would recommend you at least try it then,” Bilbo said. “I’ve not had tea this good in a long time.” Kili hummed finishing the last of his scone.

“Maybe some other time,” he said.

#

Bilbo had hoped Kili would be more obedient toward him when they arrived at school after their walk. It was odd, in a way, to find that Kili wasn’t the hellion he had thought him to be. But the moment Bilbo demanded his students to take their seats and hand in their homework, Kili was at it again. He sat on top of his desk and doodled in his notebook instead of listen to the lecture Bilbo had planned for the day.

He sighed with resignation. Asking Kili to pay attention to him during class was too much to ask and Bilbo berated himself for hoping for miracles. At the end of the hour, he bade goodbye to the seniors and welcomed the freshmen, passing out their delayed grammar test.

He kept an ear open for gunfire, an eye out for an unexpected attack, but the day passed as normally as any other. After the freshmen was a creative writing elective with only five students which was more than Bilbo had hoped when he proposed the class to Balin.

(True, the class was still being tested, but five students were still three or four more than Bilbo could hope for at the high school level. And as it was, these five students had ceased all delinquency since joining the class! Bilbo hoped Balin would be able to convince the board to allow the class to continue for that alone. The stories were shoddy at times and some were bad porn—and Bilbo tended to cringe at those—but writing fiction, like the drawings children made, allowed them to not only escape the realities of their lives but to cope with it. That alone made the class worth it.)

Following that was Yearbook. It was offered as a class and consisted of twelve students at varying levels to practice graphic designing and editing. Then it was lunch for half an hour. He had the juniors in the afternoon. The last class Bilbo has is a theater class (busy at work on making _Les Miserable_ for the end of the year’s production in tandem with the music department) which took up the last two hours of the day. And after that, he could be found in the classroom, grading the miserably red-marked papers that looked like they were dotted in black and red acne scars and at four in the afternoon, dark though it was, he would go home.

 _Today wasn’t that bad_ , Bilbo decided when he finally stepped into his flat at five o’clock and collapsed on his couch. He removed his glasses and closed his eyes. He covered them with his forearm and sighed. _I should make dinner—_

He sat up, remembering the note Thorin left him and felt his heart sink. He didn’t really want to go to dinner with him, but…he didn’t think that Thorin was going to take no for an answer easily.

Bilbo forced himself to get back up and entered the bathroom, starting the shower and stripping out of his work clothes. If he was going to go on a date he didn’t really want to go on with someone he didn’t really want to know, he figured he’d go at it positively and _try_ to have some fun.

 _Besides,_ he reminded himself as he stepped into the shower, _it’s just a thank-you dinner. It’s not going to bear any fruition. After this, I will make him understand_ why _I don’t want any involvement with the mafia than I already have: barely any if at all._

Pleased with his plan and its simplicity, Bilbo washed his hair and body with lightly trembling hands. Once he had rid the smell of the school from his body, he turned the water off and dried, wrapping a patchwork bathrobe around him. He knew it was ugly but it had sentimental value in that it was given to him on his eighteenth birthday by his eccentric grandfather. In the horrid robe’s defense, it was rather comfortable.

Lastly was deciding on a reasonably nice suit to wear. Being a high school teacher, he didn’t really own any, save one black one he wore on special occasions. It was always kept in a garment bag hung in his closet. Ideally, it was just a jacket matching slacks, and he could coordinate with his shirts between black, white, grey…and any other color he wished. Navy would be a good color, right? Yeah. With his black and silver tie? Or just a black tie…or just the silver one…

He decided to find out a little more about…

About…

_Where is he taking me again?_

Bilbo only remembered that it was a casino, which is why he thought about wearing his suit…he sighed and searched for the note, crawling around on his hands and knees until he found it.

The Carrock Casino.

Bilbo typed the name into his computer and was directed to **_The Carrock: Casino and Resort_**. He leaned back and sighed, scrolling through it. _I suppose I’ll wear the suit just to be safe,_ he thought, crossing his arms and staring at the vibrant red and black carpet covered by slot machines, tables for black jack and poker, and roulette. The picture slide show revealed an empty bar and restaurant.

He closed the webpage and headed back to his room to dress. There was still ten minutes before Thorin came. Bilbo spent the time pacing the length of his hallway, hands trembling.

 _I’m about to tell a mobster that I’m not interested in dating him. How is this my life?! What am I thinking?_ He shook his head. _Okay, Bilbo, breathe. In retrospect, it’s either take the risk and tell him no or chicken out because you’re scared for your life and potentially end up in an abusive relationship and develop Stockholm. Think on **that**. Risk death at the hands of a mobster **or** forever cower because of his own reputation…If it comes down to it, getting a gun in this place is easy. Or just skip town. Evil, conniving relatives aside the country wasn’t all bad._

He smoothed his shirt out and tugged on the jacket. “Right. You can do this, Baggins,” he told himself. The buzzer rang and he jumped. He approached it and pressed down. “I’ll be down in a minute,” he said, proud he managed to keep the trembling out of his voice. He inhaled and opened his door, heading toward the building’s main entrance.

Standing outside the door was a large man who looked like a solid wall of muscle. Save for around his ears and back of his head, he was bald and had tattooed his head and his beard was similar to a goatee. He wore brass knuckle busters on his hands and was dressed in a similar suit that the guards around Kili’s brother had worn. Bilbo tried not to be cowed, but it was a little hard to not feel intimidated seeing him. He guessed this was one of the body guards Kili had mentioned.

“Mr. Baggins?” he asked. Bilbo nodded. “Mr. Oakenshield is waiting.”

Oakenshield? Bilbo asked. If that was supposed to mean anything, he didn’t ask. Only followed the man to a black sedan and thanked him when the door opened. Thorin sat in the seat closest to the side facing traffic. Bilbo sat down staring at his knees and tried not to flinch when the door closed.

“Thank you for coming,” Thorin said.

“I had the feeling I didn’t have much of a choice,” Bilbo admitted. “But thank you for ‘inviting’ me anyway despite my request you leave me alone after last night.”

Thorin didn’t respond for a while. Bilbo thought he had angered him and was afraid to look at Thorin to check. It felt like minutes, but it was only seconds, before Thorin moved, taking one of Bilbo’s hands in his, his fingers curling between Bilbo’s.

“I have no intention of hurting you or using my…position against you, Bilbo. I promise you will not get involved with my family.”

“The most involvement I have so far with your family is teaching your nephew,” Bilbo said. “And even _that_ is for only four more months. After that—” He dared to look up and his voice was caught in his throat. Thorin stared at him. Bilbo couldn’t read the expression Thorin had but it wasn’t angry. The corner of his mouth was slightly turned upward and his hand caressed Bilbo’s, the pad of his thumb stroked the knuckle of Bilbo’s. Bilbo swallowed. “A-after that, I want nothing to do with the Durins. That includes _you_ and I already asked you to leave me alone. Will you _stop_ that?!” He pulled his hand away and looked out the window.

 _Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck! I_ yelled _at him! What was I thinking? He might kill me now!_ Bilbo brought the hand Thorin held to his chest, gripping it tightly and he shook. _This isn’t happening. This can’t happen now…please God…_

“You think I will hurt you.”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Give me _some_ credit,” Thorin sighed. “You saved my life yesterday. I won’t kill you on a whim. I may be a mob boss’ son, but I’m not a barbarian. How about this: let’s see where tonight leads. If you still don’t want anything to do with me despite my promise that I will keep my family away from you, all right. I will keep my distance and leave you alone. But if that changes in any way, I would at least appreciate it if you gave me a chance to make good on that promise, Bilbo.”

He turned back to look at Thorin, lowering his hands to his lap. _No_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he was afraid to speak it. _No, I want nothing to do with you at all. Not just be “kept away” from your family. I want you to leave me alone and never walk back into my life ever again after tonight. Do you understand me? **No. Never. Not on your life**._

Those damnably beautiful blue eyes stared at Bilbo and he could sense Thorin’s uncertainty. He wanted to laugh. This man was probably always confident in whatever he did. He never wavered and never backed down from a challenge and it frightened Bilbo when the thought that _he_ was a “new challenge” crossed his mind. He wasn’t something to conquer and he’d be _damned_ if he let Thorin have his way.

But he couldn’t say no. He opened and closed his mouth, words lost. Bilbo swallowed.

“I don’t want you near me at all, Thorin,” he said at last. He said it calmly, slowly, and clearly. “Not just your family, but _you_. So it doesn’t matter how well tonight goes. This is _it_. No more. If you come back to my apartment at all, see me and try to-to interact with me, I’ll-I’ll call the police.”

It was a feeble threat and Thorin knew it and he let Bilbo know that he knew it, throwing his head back and laughing. “The police?” he asked. “God, _that_ is rich!”

It was true. There was very little Erebor’s police would be able to do to Thorin. The most he’ll get is a slap to the wrist. Everyone here, in one way or other, was in the Durins’ pockets. Bilbo looked away, angered and humiliated that his threat held no weight. Thorin stopped laughing and straightened.

“Is that really what you want? For me to leave you alone after tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Even if you enjoy the time we have tonight?”

“Yes.”

“And after that, you don’t want me near you at all?”

“Yes.”

Thorin cupped Bilbo’s face in his hands and kissed him. Bilbo gasped and tried to pull away, but the kiss ended as soon as it had come and there was proper distance between him and Thorin again. If not for the tingling on his mouth and a lingering feeling of hands pressed against his cheeks, Bilbo would have guessed it was all in his head.

“As you wish,” Thorin said. “After tonight, you’ll not see me again.”

Bilbo didn’t think much of the promise. After all, Thorin already broke it the first time. The next time, he knew he’d have to be far less forgiving toward Thorin. What he’d do about it, though, if it came to that Thorin _didn’t_ want to leave Bilbo alone and came back anyway…Bilbo couldn’t say.

“So you’re one of Kili’s teachers?” Thorin asked. Bilbo nodded.

“I am.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be the one he has a crush on, are you?”

Bilbo glared at him. “Kili has a habit of getting under one’s skin. I doubt I’m the only one of his teachers who he enjoys tormenting.”

“Of course not, but he also has this teacher he won’t shut up about. He may be eighteen, but he doesn’t act as mature as we would like him to, so he may be acting out in a way to get said teacher’s attention and he acted like he’d gone to heaven when he came back from school today.”

“Thorin, even if Kili _does_ have a crush on me, it would be stupid of me to act on it in any way! I’d like to _keep_ my job and quit on my own terms, thanks.”

“Of course,” Thorin said, smirking at him. “I won’t blame him if he does have a crush on you, though.” Bilbo glared at him and Thorin’s smirk widened. “I’m not worried by it,” he said. “Far from worried. You’re…abhorrence toward even a _suggestion_ that you student might fancy you is reassuring for me as a…well, I’d say potential partner, but you aren’t exactly keen on that, are you? So I find it reassuring as a concerned uncle.”

“Can we _not_ talk about it then?”

“Of course,” Thorin said. “I had not asked how your day was…”

“It was actually not that bad,” Bilbo admitted. _Wait a minute…_ He narrowed his eyes at Thorin. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

“I _may_ have.”

“Why would you?”

“You needed the war on that street to stop, so I bought it from both gangs battling over it,” Thorin explained. “Working in Erebor should be easier for you now. You don’t have to leave. Honestly, my sister or I should have taken care of it sooner since Kili attends school there, but…well, business tended to get in the way and we kept forgetting then he was starting to prepare for graduation. Meeting you was an incentive I did not know I was going to come across.”

“Making the streets around the school safer is…comforting, so I thank you for that,” Bilbo began, “But that’s not the main reason I decided to resign after the year is up. I told you last night, I don’t—”

“You mean more to your students than you think. That much I can gather just from listening to _one_ ,” Thorin said. “Don’t leave just yet. Give Erebor another chance.”

“Why?” Bilbo asked. He glared at Thorin and crossed his arms over his chest. “Give me one _good_ reason why I should stay.”

“Change. And hope,” Thorin said, scooting closer to Bilbo until he had him pressed against the door. Bilbo tensed, wanting to push him away. “Regardless what you think, Mr. Baggins, I’ve seen a change in my nephew since you came to Erebor. Are you telling me that you aren’t reaching out to _any_ of your students? How true is that? I don’t know when you got into a habit of telling yourself these lies about how you aren’t reaching your students or being the teacher you hoped to be, but I feel you’re more extraordinary than you believe you are.” Thorin took his hand and kissed it. Bilbo pulled his hand away.

“Please don’t do that,” he said, cringing away from Thorin, who pulled away. He didn’t dare look at Thorin, a tad afraid of what he’d see if he did. Bilbo _hated_ feeling so helpless under Thorin’s scrutiny. He’d admit that Thorin gave him fairly good reason to stay, but the urge to leave and never return to this forsaken, gang-infested, mafia-run city multiplied with Thorin’s persistent…could what he be doing be called flirtatious? Possibly, but in the sense that made Bilbo feel disturbed and slightly unsafe. Simply put, Bilbo thought Thorin was…creepy.

 _Wasn’t there a time when flirting was supposed to be fun for both parties?_ He asked himself. _When did that change to one person frightening the other? Must be because he’s part of the mafia…_

Thorin backed away further and the feeling of being burned with those eyes ebbed. “You are uncomfortable, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Don’t sound so hurt by that,” Bilbo snapped. “How else am I supposed to feel around a criminal?” The car stopped and stilled. Bilbo sighed.

 _I never should have stepped out my door tonight,_ he thought. The muscled man opened the door and Bilbo stepped out. Thorin followed after him and whispered something to his man. The body guard nodded and closed the door.

Bilbo glanced up at the multi-story building, wondering what more awaited him tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

_Looking on it now, I know it was probably the light of a passing car I saw surrounding him when he knelt down. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open, somewhat lost at what to do when he asked if I was all right._

An angel, _I thought, slightly dizzy from blood loss._ God sent an angel to me.

_He took me into his home. I walked him through a basic stitching. He wanted to take me to the hospital, but I talked him out of it. The Gundebad Family would think to look for me there. Azog would be scouring the nearest hospital—part of his own territory—for me._

_The only safe hospital I know of is on the other side of town._

_This angel before me didn’t know this._

_After I was in no danger of bleeding to death, he did what he could to make me warm so not to succumb to hypothermia. He shivered at my touch and I could smell his scent as I pressed closer to him. It was light and unobtrusive, clean._

Mint leaves, _I thought._ He smells like mint leaves.

_I closed my eyes, unsure what was dream and what was reality._

_I had to know him. I wanted him and I knew there was a small chance it was just a dream. It didn’t feel like one, but I was still hazy and could not tell. So I acted, asked his preferences in a partner and then pushed him down._

_Were it a dream, I doubt he’d have pulled away from me or told me no. So I pulled back, gave him his space. He learned I was a Mafioso for the Durin family—it’s heir to be precise._

_From there, everything began to go completely wrong._

_“This is the only time. After this, I want you to leave. I don’t want to get tied up with the mafia in any way. So please, when your man comes to get you tomorrow, that’s it. You leave. And you never come here again.”_

_I could feel my heart break without knowing why._

_I don’t know him. It shouldn’t have hurt so much to hear this as it wasn’t the first time I’ve been rejected because of my family and profession before. I don’t know why, but this time it hurt more than it should have. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of mint, holding him closer. If this is to be the only time I can hold him in my arms, then I will hold him._

_“Understood,” I told him._

_And I do understand. I really do. I can’t blame him for wanting to stay safe._

_In the morning, I realized I couldn’t let this be the last time I see him. He slept peacefully, breathing lightly. His golden curls fell over his face and I brushed them away. I needed to see him one more time before I said goodbye to this angel forever._

_I wrote a note, telling him I’d take him to dinner, as a thank you for his help last night. Then I made reservations with Beorn, demanding despite his strict rules, that he have a table ready for me tonight._

_I had Oin inspect Bilbo’s stitching and let him redo it despite how much I loved lightly tracing the stitches even though they still smarted at the slightest touch. They were_ his _stitches. Messy as they were, I loathed letting Oin take them out “because of an infection risk.” It was a sad necessity._

_My arm was redressed and I was forced to wear a sling._

_“So who is this guy?” Dwalin asked. “Like the last one?” he asked darkly._

_“I don’t think so,” I said. “He wasn’t exactly thrilled when I told him of my family.” Dwalin hummed. “Speaking of,” I smacked the back of his head. “What the fuck are you doing hanging around the orphanage so much?! Stop being a creep and just ask Ori out.”_

_Dwalin rubbed the back of his head, scowling at me. “Easy for you to say,” he growled. “You’re actually going on a date tonight.”_

_I sighed. We’re both hopeless. “I couldn’t let last night be the only time I see him. Dwalin, he’s beautiful. And I can’t just let this be it. I can’t just let him leave…the territory around the school. Who owns it?”_

_“The Dale and Mirkwood Families have been fighting over it for a while now,” Dwalin said. “Sigrid and Legolas are at each other’s throats for those streets. Both are currently trying to instill their claim as heirs to their fathers’ Families.”_

_Legolas and Sigrid. I had met both kids. Legolas was nineteen. Sigrid was sixteen and homeschooled. (Her father was a bit protective, but did not mind Sigrid being under Dis’ wing. It was likely the Dale and Durin families would merge at some time in the future.) Both were vicious fighters if they needed to be._

_Foolish brats didn’t know how to work the system properly yet, hence the turf war. They were making the area unsafe for not just my angel, but for my nephew as well. One would think, with Sigrid’s involvement with Dis, she would know how to make deals by this point. Clearly, I’ll have to show those brats how to handle business properly._

_“Get Bard and Thranduil on the phone for me. This war that’s been on those streets ends now.” Dwalin stared at me, blinking. “I’m ending it. Kili goes to that school—”_

_“You’re not doing it for Kili,” Dwalin accused. “Otherwise you would have taken care of it long ago.”_

_I glared at him. “Bilbo works at the school. He’s stressed and thinking of leaving. I can’t let that happen.”_

_“It won’t matter if he stays or leaves.”_

_“He’ll stay,” I said. “He has to stay.”_

_Dwalin arched a bushy brow at me. “You’re a bit obsessed, Thorin, and you don’t even know him.”_

_“I know I love him,” I said, staring at my hands. “I know I would give him everything his heart desires so long as it is in my power to give it to him. If it means loving him from a distance, I will do that, but I need to see him one last time. Just one. Memorize his face, the color of his eyes and how the light catches his hair…Yes, I admit I’m obsessed. I admit I might still be a bit out of it, but there is no time to waste! I can’t let him leave now that I have found him, Dwalin.”_

_Dwalin sighed, crossing his arms. “All right,” he said. “But try not to scare him, Thorin.”_

_“What do you mean?” I ask. “You’ve no right to talk.”_

_“At least I don’t start groping Ori whenever I see him!”_

_I wince. I admit I tend to be very…affectionate…when around people I happen to fancy. And the likelihood that I’ll be overly affectionate tonight is sadly quite huge._

_“I suppose that’s fair,” I said. “I’m doomed, aren’t I?”_

_“Yep. You’re going to scare him off first chance you get. Intentionally or not.”_

_I groan, slumping into my chair. “Well, bugger all,” I mutter. I can only hope I can control myself tonight._

_And it is just my luck that I can’t. It’s like I need to be assured he’s there. That he is really there in front of me. It starts with just his hand and the touch is light, but it still makes him recoil from me, staring out the window. He’s afraid to make eye contact and I realize why._

_“You think I will hurt you,” I say._

_“I’m sure of it.” He says._

_My chest aches. “Give me some credit,” I said. “You saved my life yesterday. I won’t kill you on a whim. I may be a mob boss’ son, but I’m_ not _a barbarian. How about this: let’s see where tonight leads. If you still don’t want anything to do with me despite my promise that I will keep my family away from you, all right. I will keep my distance and leave you alone. But if that changes in any way, I would at least appreciate it if you gave me a chance to make good on that promise, Bilbo.”_

_And he looked at me, relaxing just a touch. I felt on the edge of my seat. Would he give me a chance? Would he let me show him I’m not defined just by the Durin Family?_

_“I don’t want you near me at all, Thorin,” he said and my heart felt it would break again. “Not just your family, but_ you _. So it doesn’t matter how well tonight goes. This is it. No more. If you come back to my apartment at all, see me and try to-to interact with me, I’ll-I’ll call the police.”_

_And that was rich. I didn’t mean to laugh, but it came out of my mouth too quickly for me to stop it. Once control was regained, I asked:_

“ _Is that really what you want? For me to leave you alone after tonight?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Even if you enjoy the time we have tonight?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“And after that, you don’t want me near you at all?”_

_“Yes.”_

_So sure of himself and so gorgeous when he dares to look me in the eye and tell me no. I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him. I cursed myself and pulled away._

Well done, Thorin! _I thought._ Are you trying to scare him away?

_“As you wish,” I said. “After tonight, you’ll not see me again.”_

_We talked more. I tried to keep my distance, despite the itch to hold him close, to kiss him, to mark him._ “ _Don’t leave just yet,” I begged. “Give Erebor another chance.”_

_“Why?” Bilbo asked. He glared at Thorin and crossed his arms over his chest. “Give me one good reason why I should stay.”_

_“Change. And hope,” I told him, lunging forward. I was desperate to make him understand that he could change the city for the better just by doing what he is doing as a teacher. That he inspires_ me _to be better. I kiss his hand reverently, but he recoils and I back away._

No, no, no! Not again! What have I done?!

_I watch him intently—admittedly a bit too intently—and I realize I had pressed harder than I ever intended to. “You are uncomfortable, aren’t you?”_

_“Don’t sound so hurt by that,” Bilbo said, glaring at me. “How else am I supposed to feel around a criminal?”_

_And if my heart hadn’t been broken before, it was now. It was my fault, I know that, but it still hurt to be looked at with disgust. I need to fix this. I have to make him look beyond “the criminal.” I have to make him see I’m more than just the mafia._

_But I might never get that chance. Dwalin opens the door for us and I slide out after him, head bowed._

_“It’s still early,” he reminded me. “You might manage to make him change his mind. Just don’t be so touchy-feely.”_

_“Little late for that.”_

_“Damn it, Thorin.”_

_“I_ know _,” I hiss._

_My gaze shifts to the ground, staring at my shoes, and I sigh feeling defeat before the battle could even be fought. I lift my eyes, staring at Bilbo’s back._

_“I know.”_

_I join him, almost reaching out to touch him again. I pulled away instead to stuff my hands in my pockets._

#

The Carrock Casino is a little less flamboyant in real life than it was in the pictures Bilbo had seen online. It’s only to be suspected, he guessed. But that doesn’t mean it’s no less grand.

Thorin and Bilbo went up the stairs into the restaurant area and were given a table closest to the window overlooking the pier. It is a clear night, surprisingly enough, and the moon is reflected on the water. I let Thorin order for both of us because I simply don’t know what to get. Bilbo decided he’ll have to trust Thorin won’t slip anything into his drink.

“Is there anything you like to do outside of school?” Thorin asks. Bilbo turned to him, blinking. He pushed his glasses up his nose and chewed his lip, thinking. It’s harmless enough of a question.

“I like to read. Didn’t you notice how many books I have lying around?”

Thorin smiled. “I’m afraid I was busy trying not to die, but I did notice that there were several bookshelves packed full. What do you like to read?”

“Classical literature,” Bilbo said, title after title flitted through his mind. “The older it is, the more I enjoy it. However, it is sad to say that some of the oldest epics we have are polluted due to Christianization! I would love to read _Beowulf_ without all _that_ thrown into it.”

“I can imagine that would be annoying,” Thorin said. “I happen to like classical literature too, but I prefer Charles Dickens’ works specifically.” Bilbo blinked, unsure he heard right.

“I didn’t think anyone could just fancy Dickens’ works alone these days. Are you reading one of his books right now?”

“ _A Tale of Two Cities_. For the…I think the third time in my life. It wasn’t one I could easily get into until after high school. My favorite book is _The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby_.”

Bilbo blinked. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that one.”

“It’s not a well known story today. Most do not know it was one of Dickens’ works.  It’s about a boy’s struggle to take care of his mother and sister after his father passes away.”

“Huh. Why this book and not _Oliver Twist_?”

Thorin shrugged. “I suppose I resonated with Nicholas. My father may be alive, but I was always responsible for the care and protection of my siblings since we were little.”

“Do you read other authors?”

“Sometimes. I’ve not found any that really stick with me, though.”

“You might like…Wilkie Collins, George Eliot, Victor Hugo, and Elizabeth Gaskell…I’ll write those names down for you and the books you might like to read by them.”

“I would like that,” Thorin said. “What about yourself? Any favorite authors or books? Other than _Beowulf_?” he smirked at Bilbo. “Perhaps you’re a fan of Chaucer?”

“I am, actually, but being a high school teacher, I usually teach the romantics to my students. Sometimes we’ll read earlier literature, but…” he shrugged. “You know. I’m a fan of the Brontë Sisters, and if I can teach _Wuthering Heights,_ it’ll be by some miracle. But I usually teach Poe, Kelly, and Wordsworth. Right now, though, my Seniors are studying different twentieth century poets.”

I begin listing who we’ve covered so far, ending with Plath. “We’ll be studying E.E. Cummings starting tomorrow.”

Thorin stared at him blankly and it made Bilbo smile a little bit. For someone so invested in nineteenth century literature, he wasn’t exactly hopeful that he would know many of the authors or poets Bilbo spoke of. He didn’t mind only being listened to, but it would be nice to have talked about something they both could contribute to.

At the same time, Thorin didn’t seem to mind listening. He asked a few questions, namely what specifically by an author or poet Bilbo was teaching. He pauses when dinner is brought out.

“What about movies?” Bilbo asks. “Dickens’ books have been adapted many times.”

“Most of them are all right, I admit,” Thorin said. “But _Oliver and Company_ is too much of a change from the actual plot for me to appreciate it.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a Disney revamp on _Oliver Twist_.”

“I did not know that…” Bilbo had not watched anything remotely related to Disney since he was eight years old. After that, it seemed too childish for him and he delved into books soon after.

“Kili liked the movie when he was little, and I tried to get him into the book, but asking him to sit still long enough to do that was too much to hope for when he was four…or was he three?” Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It was too long ago. But still, _why_ turn an iconic character into a _cat_?”

“Disney’s adaptations are lacking something, I agree. I prefer BBC adaptations.”

“BBC is _not_ bad at all,” Thorin agreed. Bilbo would have replied, if he had not taken a bite of the steak set in front of him. “But adaptations of any book tend to be missing something.”

Bilbo swallowed. “Not always. I’ve not _read_ the books, but I’ve been told that _The Hunger Games_ weren’t too bad.”

“Do you have a favorite movie in particular? Not an adaptation or…well, there’s nothing _but_ adaptations now…” Thorin said, leaning back in his chair and drinking the wine.

“Not really,” Bilbo admitted. “If I do go to see a movie, it’s usually an action film. _The Godfather_ was a favorite of mine growing up.”

Thorin laughed. “ _The Godfather_?! You like _The Godfather_?”

Bilbo shrugged, blushing. _Of course he’d find it funny! I said my favorite movie is a movie about the mafia to a Mafioso. Well done, Baggins. Well done indeed._

“I grew up on _Godzilla_. Can you believe they’re making a new one?”

“They should just stop.”

Thorin nods. “They should. Keep it a B-Movie. Never try to make it a blockbuster. They _never_ should have tried in the first place. I fear what butchery they’ll do this time.”

Bilbo nodded, returning Thorin’s smile.

“Perhaps next—” Thorin cut himself off, shifting his gaze to the table and his smile dying.

_Next time._

There wouldn’t be one. Bilbo had almost forgotten he wanted nothing to do with Thorin. He almost forgot who Thorin was. Who he was dining with and how they met…

It was hard to truly forget.

It was easier to forget how uncomfortable he felt in the car with Thorin, who seemed adamant on touching him, kissing him…

With a table between them it was easier to keep Thorin at a distance. He had asked for a chance and Bilbo had told him no. He didn’t expect to have as much fun as he did—especially with how awkward the car ride had been.

Yet Bilbo did have fun talking to Thorin.

He was kinder than Bilbo thought he was.

Bilbo wondered if he had been too hasty in rejecting Thorin. He was smart and they seemed to like much of the same things, which Bilbo always preferred from a partner.

Still, he didn’t want to be involved with the mafia. At the same time, he sort of already was.

“I know you have already answered this,” Thorin said. “But is there _really_ no chance for me to see you again? If that has at all changed, I would like to see you again, Bilbo.”

“Well,” Bilbo leaned on the table, tapping his fingers against it. “I promise I won’t accuse you of stalking if we end up running into each other somewhere like the grocery store or a coffee shop. And I guess you might sometimes come by the school since Kili is a student there. But beyond that, there is no chance.”

Thorin seems to have deflated at that, but a spark returns in his eyes after that and his mouth turns upward into a feral grin. Bilbo almost regrets the words the moment they are out of his mouth.

_Did I just give him permission to meet me at random sometime? Is that technically permission to stalk me? Oh fuck, I hope he won’t abuse this…Maybe I shouldn’t have said there was a chance we’d meet each other randomly on the street or something like that…shouldn’t have given him hope._

“But-but too much and I _will_ get suspicious,” he added.

Thorin’s wolfish smirk did not die. Bilbo tried to ignore him by finishing his food and drinking what was left in his wine glass.

“As you wish.”

“You keep saying that,” Bilbo said. “But I notice you aren’t exactly honoring…” He blushed.

 _No. No, no, no. No. Not happening. Calm down, Bilbo. It’s not like he_ knows _the reference…or does he? Oh…he knows…shit, shit, shit!_

Bilbo stood as steadily as he could and smiled at Thorin.

“Excuse me.” He left for the restroom and locked himself in a stall, trying to calm his heart as it tried to jump out of his chest.

 _He is not in love with me,_ he thought, sitting down.

Bilbo groaned, removing his glasses and placing his head between his knees.

_He cannot be in love with me. It is impossible. He doesn’t know me well enough to believe that he’s in love with me. This isn’t happening. Attracted, yeah. Maybe lusting. Sure. But he cannot be in love with me. That’s it. Yes, Bilbo, deep breaths. Calm down. Yes, he’s attracted to you, but that is all._

He sighed, standing again and left the stall, washing his hands. Bilbo returned to the table.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“I don’t mind—” A ring interrupted Thorin and he scowled. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Do you want dessert? Go ahead and order something if you like. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Bilbo wasn’t sure if he could eat more, but he was certainly in need for more alcohol. Bilbo watched Thorin from where he stood by the window. Thorin crossed his arms over his broad chest. Wide shoulders accented by his suit. His long, ebony hair gleamed in the light.

 _Would it be so bad to have the love of a man_ that _gorgeous?_ A traitorous whisper hissed in the back of his head. _Would it really be so bad? Sure he’s a bit on the older side, but it’s not a_ bad _old. He’s interested. Do you really want to miss out on love because he’s from the mob? Do you want to miss out being held in those arms again? Or never run your fingers in his hair?_

Bilbo shook the thoughts away, remembering what sort of future he might have if he allowed Thorin to pursue him. It could go sour. In which case, he’d have to go into hiding, most likely. He’d live his whole life looking over his shoulder.

And if it went well, he’d be a target for the Durin Family’s enemies if anything went wrong.

Neither possibility was favorable to Bilbo.

Thorin hung up and returned. “No dessert?” he asked, shoving his phone in his inner coat pocket and sitting down.

Bilbo shrugged, sipping his wine. “I’m quite full, actually. The food’s very good here. What was that about, if I may ask?”

“Business. You probably don’t want to know more than that.”

“Oh. You’re right I don’t,” Bilbo agreed. “But it was polite to ask anyway.”

Thorin hummed, pouring more wine for himself.

Bilbo wrung his hands beneath the table. He picked up the glass again, just to give himself something else to do. “I didn’t thank you earlier.” Thorin blinked at him. “For stopping all the drive-bys and whatever else was going on around the school.”

“I was busy being a creep—and I should have apologized long ago for that. I just…I have an easier time expressing myself through actions rather than words and I am still trying to fathom your existence.”

 _Fathom my existence?_ “I beg your pardon?”

“You seem ethereal to me,” Thorin clarified. “And that might be the pain meds talking, now that I think about it, but a part of me is afraid this, here, meeting you…It feels almost like a dream. I’m terrified it is and that I’ll wake up and _none_ of it will have been real. That you aren’t real.”

Bilbo isn’t sure whether to find that romantic or creepy. “For now, I think it is safe to blame those pain meds…are you sure you should be out then?”

“Bilbo, last night wasn’t the first time I’ve been shot, and certainly not the first time I’ve been shot _at_. It’s not less painful, but it’s certainly more tolerable. I am fine.”

“Maybe you should think about getting your own bulletproof vest.”

“I should,” Thorin said. “I really should.” Their waiter returned, handing the bill to Thorin. He slid a gold card into the slot and returned it to the waiter. “It would make my life so much easier for me _and_ my man. You felt the scars on my back last night. There were only three times I’ve actually been shot, including this one. Considering my line of work, I got lucky.”

Bilbo paled. _Three times?!_

Thorin leaned back in his seat. “Trust me, some men aren’t so lucky. Others have been crippled after being shot. I don’t know what luck I have, but whatever it is, I will never forsake it.”

“Most likely you’ve just not been shot where you would be crippled.”

“Or I’m too tenacious and stubborn for my own good.” The waiter returned and Thorin retrieved the receipt and his card. “Can I take you home? Or would you rather I call you a cab?” he asked. “I don’t want to make you feel more uncomfortable than I already have and I’d rather we end the night on a better note than when it began.”

Bilbo stood and they descended to the ground floor. Go home with Thorin (who didn’t seem anywhere close to wanting the night to end just yet) or take a cab. “So long as you remember not to invade my personal space again, I think it should be fine.”

“Just push me away if I start groping.”

“I will,” Bilbo said. “And since you said I could and have apologized for invading my personal space earlier, I’ll probably have too much fun doing just that to mind it much.”

Thorin grinned, reaching for his hand. Bilbo pulled away, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The car was waiting for them outside and the large man opened the door for them. Bilbo slid in first, followed by Thorin.

 _All in all_ , Bilbo decided, _it wasn’t that bad_.


	4. Chapter 4

Bilbo opened his eyes, looking up at the clock as though he’d like nothing more than a hammer in which to break it with. He closed his eyes and mumbled to himself. He looked up again, reading the numbers again, and swore. He was supposed to be leaving home for school in fifteen minutes!

He scrambled out of bed and jumped in the shower long enough to wash his hair before pulling on fresh clothes and brushing his teeth. Coffee and breakfast would have to be forgotten if he wanted to be on time. He grabbed his keys, wallet, and coat, shoving his feet into shoes, reminded himself to lock the door, and ran, the main door slamming behind him.

A car drew up to his side and the windows rolled down. “Mr. Boggins, what’s the rush?” Kili asked.

“Woke late—”

The door opened. “Get in.”

Bilbo stared at him. He sighed and slid inside. “Thank you, Kili,” he said, head swimming. _Probably should’ve grabbed an apple at least…_

“Are you okay?”

“I skipped breakfast,” he admitted, grinning weakly at him. “It’s normal to feel a little sick when you don’t eat for long periods of time.”

“We’ll stop at the Lonely Mountain,” Kili said, sending his brother a look. Fili just rolled his eyes and gave the command to their driver.

“That’s not necessary—” Bilbo began, but the car was already turning toward the café and Kili waved his hand.

“It’s not a problem,” Fili said. Bilbo turned to him. The older brother of the duo couldn’t have been much older than himself. “Or would you reject my brother’s offer so callously?” Kili elbowed Fili’s rib, glaring at him.

“What do you mean? I simply don’t want to be indebted to him, especially if it involves food. There isn’t anything callous about it.” Bilbo had half a mind to ask if Fili even knew what the word meant, but thought better of it.

“Ignore him, Sir,” Kili said. “My brother lacks all tact.” Bilbo resisted the urge to tell Kili that it probably ran in the family. The car stopped and they slide out onto the sidewalk and into the café. The brothers greeted Dori as they got into line. “What would you like to eat?”

“What? No. No, no, no…”

“It’s fine. I don’t care and neither does our grandfather.”

“Even if that’s the case, I can’t just—”

“It’s not like it’ll cost a lot. If it bothers you so much, you can pay me back,” Kili said. “But I really don’t care. Do you like nut bread? Dori’s got a really good banana nut bread or maybe a poppy seed muffin…”

Bilbo slumped his shoulders, defeated. “A cinnamon coffee cake with raspberry tea would be nice. But I can pay for myself.” Kili handed his card to the cashier. _I really need to stop letting him pay for my food…_

Once breakfast had come, Kili dragged Bilbo away from Fili, taking a table for two in the corner instead of sitting with his brother and guards around the booth.

“I am sorry about Fili. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s usually nicer to people I know. Why were you late leaving for work, if I may ask?”

Bilbo saw no harm in it, tearing his coffee cake into chunks. “I went on a date last night and ended up waking later than I normally do.”

Kili smirked. “Was it a good date or a great date?”

“And dare I ask the difference—I’m _not_ asking,” he said. Kili pouted and bit into his muffin. “And it _was_ a good date, despite a bumpy beginning.”

“Well lucky him for managing to salvage it. Any hope for a second?”

 _Not if I can help it. Good date or not, I refuse to date a Mafioso._ “We’ll see,” Bilbo replied, taking a sip of his tea. Kili washed the muffin down with coffee.

“Was she hot?”

“ _He_ , actually. And yes.” Bilbo paused. _Did I just come out to a student? Damn it._ Kili beamed at him, mouth turned in a twisted little smirk.

“Hmm…so you prefer guys…or are you bi? I don’t care either way. I’m saying so cuz you look like you just swallowed a lemon.”

“I…yes, I prefer men.” He narrowed his eyes at Kili as that smirk widened. “Emphasis on _men_.”

Kili snorted. “Again, I’m not about to rat you out to the school or anything. Your sex life is yours and should remain so. I’m not _that_ much of a little shit.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were.”

“You wound me, Mr. Boggins,” Kili said, pouting. Bilbo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yes! Yes, yes. I’m fine. The adrenaline I felt when I realized I was late is dying down.”

“It was a great date wasn’t it? You’re holding out on me.”

“Nothing like that happened last night! It was the first date anyway, so why _would_ anything happen?! Besides, aren’t you the one who so sagely stated that my sex life is mine and should stay that way.” Kili shrugged, smirking again. Bilbo sighed. “You enjoy causing me grief, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” Kili said, leaning on the table and grinning.

“Try harder. I don’t think you’re being bratty enough.”

“Kili,” Fili called. “Time to go.”

“Jesus, Fi, really? I’m having a conversation here!”

“And neither of you should be late, so get your ass to the car.”

Kili grit his teeth as Fili walked back, a phone pressed to his ear. He turned to Bilbo. “I’m _so_ sorry about him…can I just walk home with you today? Way he’s been acting right now, I don’t think I can stand being around him for a few hours.”

“It’ll be a few hours once school is over. About eight hours, I think…yeah. Sounds about right.”

“Yeah, but I need a little _more_ time away from him if I’m going to rid the urge of wanting to pummel him to death. _Please?_ He’s being horrible today.”

Bilbo sighed, jumping off the chair, “Fine.” Kili followed and embraced him.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

“Kili, get off!”

#

Apart from the usual disinterest his students showed, the day went quite splendidly. It was Friday. The sun was actually shining out of the clouds. There was two days to unwind from the insanity of the week.

He paused in packing up. Had it really been just two days ago when he found Kili’s uncle bleeding in an alley? How time flies. Bilbo shook his head. It was a crazy week. That much was certain.

He doubted there was any week that could top the one he had. Never a quiet moment in Erebor, so Bilbo half expected the other shoe to drop at a moment’s notice.

Kili met him outside the school, tugging on the straps of his backpack. He grinned at Bilbo. “Hey, Mr. Boggins,” He greeted. Bilbo sighed.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be calling me by my _name_ any time soon.”

“What? Boggins fits you,” Kili said. Bilbo sighed. There was no arguing with this kid. Best give up while ahead, he decided. “Do you want to stop at the Lonely Mountain?”

“We were there this morning.”

“So? It’s February.”

“It gets _dark_ by four, Kili.”

“I know. But why should that matter? It’s Friday and it’s not like I’m asking you to do something over the top crazy. Just to have a drink with me.”

Bilbo frowned. “You know I can’t date you.”

“For _now_ you can’t date me. But that’s only for a few more months. Then I’m not your student anymore,” Kili said. “Besides: I’m not _asking_ you to have a date with me. I’m asking you to just get a drink and talk. I promise there’s nothing date like about it. If anything, I kind of need advice.” His smile faltered a bit. Bilbo couldn’t pin exactly why, but it worried him.

“All right,” Bilbo said. “But I’m buying this time.” Kili’s grin returned. “So what’s going on that you want my advice on? Is everything okay at home?”

“Yeah. My family’s great. Mom and Dad are great… _parent-wise_ I guess. And my grandfather was always able to spare time for me and Fi despite how busy he was, and Uncle Frerin always has a joke or two to crack. They got dirtier as we got older and Uncle Thorin taught us how to fish and hunt.”

Bilbo couldn’t see Thorin in a nature setting…at all.

“I didn’t know my family was Mafia until I was in the fifth grade and after that…well, I wasn’t allowed to sit in at meeting until this year, but _knowing_ your family is involved in illegal activity kind of turns the rebellious factor on its head. I’m expected to take over the Family with Fili when our ‘time comes’ which would be when my mom and uncles croak or step down. The former is much more likely to happen.”

“But you don’t want to?”

“I don’t want _anything_ to do with the Family,” he said as they walked toward the door of the café. “I want to go to college and have a normal life. Growing up in the mafia,” He held the door open for Bilbo, “Does not cater to that.”

“No,” Bilbo agreed, “I suppose not. Have you talked to your parents about this? If they’re as good as you say they are, they’ll listen.” They ordered their drinks and stepped out of line to the counter where they’d pick them up. “Parents only want what is best for their kids. I’m sure your parents are no different.” The drinks arrived and they sat at a table.

“I haven’t. I’m a little scared of what would happen if I do.”

“I think your parents will listen,” Bilbo said, letting the teabag soak more. “It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“But what if they say no?”

“Then I’ll help you get a scholarship somewhere,” Bilbo said. “There are a number of good schools around and you’re not a bad student when you put your mind to it. Just _don’t_ mess with your professors the way you do at school now with me and your other teachers. We may overlook it, but I assure you _they_ will not.”

“You’ll help?”

“Of course,” Bilbo said, raising the cup to his lips. “You should be allowed to continue your education if you want to and I don’t see how coming from a Mafia family should stop that.”

Kili surged forward, catching Bilbo’s lips in a kiss. Bilbo jumped back and Kili blinked. Kili’s eyes widened and a blush crept up his cheeks. “Oh shit,” he whispered. Kili sat back in his seat. “I’m _so_ sorry. I didn’t mean to—I was just—I didn’t—I’m—I should’ve just stuck with words and I’m shutting up now.” He stood. “Bye, Mr. Baggins,” he said, running out of the café.

He forgot his coffee.

#

Bilbo didn’t see Kili after that and assumed he got home all right. He wondered what was happening to his life.

 _Let’s review the facts, Baggins,_ he said. _First off, you have a Mafioso, who will one day be the head of his Family’s group, who has a crush on you. Then there is your student, who is said Mafioso’s nephew, kissing you out of the blue just because you told them you’d help him get into college. Said student may_ also _have a crush on you._ He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Fuck my life._

He arrived at his apartment jut as night closed in. He paused, key almost in the door and walked down the stairs to check the alley. He looked around the corner, frowning. He let out a breath he had been holding and relaxed.

“I suppose he would respect that I don’t want to see him again,” he mused aloud, returning to the front door and entering the building.

#

It’s almost startling how peaceful the weekend ended up being. The last time Bilbo felt this relaxed, he was still in the Shire and both of his parents were still alive. He almost wished for the peace to go away when he realized it. Bilbo turned onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm. He hadn’t mourned those days before his father took to drink in a long time and the truth hit him harder than it should have.

His only image of his mother was in the pictures of her he still had. She was bright and beautiful, with long blonde hair and a mischievous grin on her face whenever Bilbo talked to her about his “adventures” when he went looking for elves in the woods near his house before he was too old to believe in them.

In those days, his father was happy too, even if it was hard to tell. In those days, Bungo didn’t drink as often. A glass of wine at dinner or a bottle of beer at barbeque, but it was responsible and moderate. He didn’t smile much, but Belladonna could always bring it out of him, even startle him into laughing loudly. Sometimes Bilbo managed to bring a smile on his father’s face as well.

Then Belladonna grew ill from breast cancer and the chemotherapy refused to work. That year was rough for his family and Bilbo could remember the fear he felt. His mother deteriorating before his eyes. His father’s rare smiles rarer and if they did come, they were sadder and he started drinking more. The most frightening part of that time for Bilbo was finding his father still up at night, holding a framed picture in his hands and crying. It terrified him, seeing his father seem so…so human.

His love of books grew during that time because his mother asked him to read to her. It began with _Treasure Island_ , then they went through the entire _Chronicles of Narnia_ , and _Fahrenheit 451_. He read poetry most days.

And then it was the end. There was no one to read to or tell about his day to. It was the second time he saw his father cry. He grew bored in the waiting room. No one told him what was going on. He found Bungo talking to the doctor, hiding his face in his hands and shoulders shaking.

 _“We’re sorry for your loss,”_ the doctor said.

He needn’t hear more than that. He ran, leaving the building and hiding on the grounds, hiding in the trees, knees pulled up to his chin and hiding his face in his hands as he wept, unable to do much else. He didn’t hear his name being called nor noticed that his absence was noticed. He was found by one of the nurses, who led him back. His father had been angry at first, but one look and he knew that Bilbo knew.

That was the last time his father hugged him.

The funeral was the last time he saw Bungo sober and it was the last time anyone saw Bilbo without a book.

While his father took to drink, he took to reading. He studied, absorbed information like a sponge, discovered his sexuality, and realized his calling as a teacher while tutoring classmates and underclassmen as a way to earn his own keep when his father was too drunk for anything. His grandparents, both maternal and paternal, gave him an allowance which he saved up for college, preferring to work for his own money to buy his own food and necessities with.

The times were hard, but his unofficial job allowed him to meet his first love and discover himself. He didn’t expect to fall in love and the feelings he experienced scared him, but it was in a different way than he expected. It was a good relationship and they broke up on good terms, agreed to be friends after that, but it didn’t stop the hurt of seeing each other with other guys. The ache had died after a few days and Bilbo moved on. But the situation at home never got better. His father was often drinking or passed out on the couch.

When his father died, Bilbo had been accepted to attend Rivendell University just a few hours away from the Shire. He received his letter and went to see if his father would be sober enough to understand his excitement at getting into such a prestigious college…

His father had died on the couch, a shattered glass of whiskey stained the wood. The coroner said it was a bad liver and Bilbo concurred. He wasn’t as sad as he was when his mother passed. He refused to go home. He refused to leave Rivendell after that, letting his relatives fight and bicker over whom would get Bag End. His only request was that it didn’t go to the Sackville-Bagginses. Whoever lived there now, Bilbo could not say, but he knew it was not _them_. After finishing his studies in English Education, he moved to Erebor for the teaching job he had sought…

 _Speaking of which_ , Bilbo thought, pushing himself up, _I should get ready._ He wiped his eyes and showered, he ate a decent breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs, and he left, refusing to let his memories drag him down. What would be the point? It was more than a decade ago since his father died and nearly two since his mother passed away.

Nothing came from moping or thinking on the past, so he respected the memories of what his family used to be by doing what he loved best. He just wished teaching in Erebor was stress-free.

On arrival at the school, he saw that the students were crowded around the entrance. Bilbo pushed his way through, telling them to get to their classes, but no one moved. On making it to the front, he realized why. Large men, most sporting beards, tattoos, and piercings blocked the way. He recognized one of them as Thorin’s body guard. He inhaled and exhaled before approaching him.

“Hello again,” he said. The man nodded. “School’s about to start, could you perhaps let them in?”

“Can’t. Thorin’s orders.”

Bilbo frowned. “I believe it was just the streets around the school that he bought. He can’t bar the school from the students. They need to get in and you’re blocking the way.”

“And I’m saying I can’t do that.” He pressed a finger to his earpiece. “Yeah, I’ll send him in.” He lowered his hand and turned to Bilbo. "Thorin’s in the principal’s office with Kili. They want to talk to you.”

Bilbo held his stance, glaring at him. “I’ll go in if the students are allowed inside too. Otherwise, I’m not moving from this spot!”

The man grimaced at him, but relayed the message. He sighed. “They can go in.” he cleared the men and the students walked in, watching them warily. Bilbo headed to Balin’s office and knocked.

“Come in,” Balin called and Bilbo entered. He usually had a smile on his face when Bilbo visited. Not so this time and it made Bilbo nervous. Kili sat in one of the chairs, his head bowed. Thorin leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest and a visible frown curved his face into an image that made Bilbo want to cower.

“What’s going on?”

“Kili came home late on Friday asking to speak with my father, Thrain Durin,” Thorin began. “When he did, he asked to leave the Family and go to college. He admitted that this idea was put in his head by you.” Bilbo stared at him, anger boiling.

 “I put _nothing_ in his head! He asked me for advice and said he wanted to go to college. I don’t see why this is a problem. Most parents would be happy to send their kids to college! As for his desire to leave the family, it’s normal for a teenager to want time away from his family.”

“Actually, Bilbo,” Balin said. “Thorin means Kili wants to leave the _Family_ : The Mafia.”

Bilbo focused on breathing. He’d need to if he was to keep a cool head. “And there’s something wrong with that?” he asked Thorin.  “Kili confided in me about this, yes. But I didn’t tell him to do anything save tell his _parents_. His _mother_ and _father. Not_ his grandfather. If he wants to go to college, he should be allowed to. If he doesn’t want to have his life tied to a criminal organization, then why should he? He’s a legal adult and more than capable of making his own decisions. He doesn’t need me or you prodding him to make the ones he feels to be right. Personally, I’m proud of him for deciding he wanted to continue his education and that he decided he doesn’t want to be involved with _criminals_. Family or not, he has made his decision and if you really want what’s best for him, in your shoes, I’d respect that.”

Thorin turned to Balin. “Could you take Kili to his class? I need a word alone with Mr. Baggins.”

“Of course,” Kili stood, grabbing his bag and slinging it over one shoulder. He followed Balin out. When the door closed, Thorin approached Bilbo and seized his jacket.

“Kili’s ‘decision,’ as you call it, is treacherous. At least that’s how my grandfather sees it. Kili got off with a lecture, but were he anyone else, he’d be _dead_. Do you understand that? Since he talked to you, my father almost has you on his list. You overstepped your bounds as a teacher.”

“I did not! That’s preposterous! I was doing my job! He came to me for advice and I gave him the advice I could! And I said he needed to tell his parents, not his grandfather, all right? You’re all making this bigger than it really is! For the love of God! Do you even _talk_ to him? You can’t seriously tell me that you didn’t know he wasn’t happy in the mafia.”

“Do you even comprehend how much trouble you’re in?!” Thorin hissed, shaking him. “Can you even imagine how I had to _beg_ my father to spare your life? The Family wants you _dead_ , Bilbo. The only reason you’re _not_ is because I intervened. They would have tortured you, you get that? Do you?!”

Bilbo stared at him, gaping. His stomach churned as different torture-porn images flashed through his head. Thorin released him and Bilbo nearly collapsed. “I didn’t…I didn’t _do_ anything wrong.”

“I know that. Kili knows that. But my father doesn’t listen well when he’s upset.” Bilbo gripped the back of a chair to steady himself. “Bilbo?”

“I need air.”

Thorin opened a window and helped Bilbo over, forcing him to sit down. “When you’re not feeling as ill, we’ll go to my father.”

“What?!” Bilbo squeaked. “N-no!”

“I’m afraid there isn’t anything else I can do. I got him to calm down enough and convinced him not to kill you, but he still wants to speak with you. Well, more likely he wants you to apologize to him for this mess—I _know_ you didn’t do anything wrong,” Thorin said, halting Bilbo’s renewed protest. “My father is not as easy to convince as I am. Had Kili come to me, this whole…ordeal wouldn’t have happened.”

“But…”

Thorin knelt. “I will do all I can to protect you. You have to trust me on that at the very least. You need to see my father, as much as I know you want nothing to do with him or the Durins. And you’re expected to see him in,” he checked his watch, “an hour. So we have to go _now_ , Bilbo.”

“Don’t I get any say in this?!”

“I’m afraid not. My suggestion is to grovel—”

“I won’t be made to grovel at the feet of a criminal! I don’t care _how_ powerful he is.”

“Bilbo, you don’t have a choice.” He placed a hand on Bilbo’s knee. “ _Please_. I’ll be there with you, so _please_ come with me. Don’t make me drag you out.”

Bilbo stared at that hand. He sighed. “If I have no choice, why are you asking?”

“Bilbo, please. Don’t make me force you to do this.”

He sighed. “Fine. _Fine_ , but I am _not_ going to grovel or bow or beg! Is that clear?”

“That is your choice. I’ll say it’s the wrong one, but it is still your choice to make,” Thorin said, standing. He held his hand out to Bilbo who ignored it and got up, heading to the door. Thorin’s guard opened the car door for them and Bilbo wrung his hands together to keep them from shaking.  He watched the scenery shift as they drove silently to the City Council building.

 _This is too much,_ he said. _I’ll leave at the end of the year and I can put this place in the back of my mind as a bad decision I made early on. I just hope it won’t affect my resume…_

He wanted to go home and crawl back into bed, to hope all this was just a dream. He wished that was all it was: a bad dream. That he’d wake up and it’d be a Monday at six AM all over again. That he’d go to school and could begin the day without the presence of the mafia in the courtyard.

Bilbo looked at Thorin, meeting his ice blue stare. This wasn’t the uncomfortable stare he was subjected to on Thursday. _This_ was the stare of someone who was doing his job.

Nothing personal, just business, sorry you got caught in the crossfire.

The car slowed and entered a parking garage. Bilbo’s heart beat faster and he shifted his gaze to his lap. His hands shook no matter how fast he tried to still the quaking.

“You’ll be all right,” Thorin said, startling Bilbo out of his thoughts. Bilbo blinked at him, unsure how to translate his expression. “I won’t let you get hurt. But I need you to trust me.”

Bilbo looked down again. “I don’t…none of this was supposed to happen…”

“Bilbo, look at me.” He obeyed. Thorin took his hands in both of his. “You _will_ be all right. On my life, I will protect you. But I need you to trust me in order for that to work.”

The car halted and the engine died. Thorin released his hands. Bilbo met his gaze again and nodded.

The door opened and they left the car. Bilbo followed, refusing to look down. _If I’m going to meet Thrain Durin_ , he decided, _I’ll do it with my head high._


	5. Chapter 5

_I can do this._

_I can do this._

 Bilbo looked up at the clock as it ticked by and his heart beat quick. He trembled, trying to shake it off.

The room has only a two chairs. Bilbo sat in the recliner. The other was a couch pressed against the wall under the clock.

A mahogany coffee table with a tiny sand garden and rake rested on it with different literary journals: _The Ben Jonson Journal_ , _The Chaucer Review_ …

There was a receptions desk where two women worked, never looking up at Bilbo.

He didn’t mind. The wall behind the receptionists was a door leading to Thrain’s office, where Thorin was talking to his father.

Bilbo groaned, his stomach churning. He bent over, placing his head between his knees.

 _I_ can _do this._

The door opened and Bilbo was called in. He stood, approaching Thorin on wobbly legs. He hoped they didn’t give out on him while he spoke to Thrain.

The first thing he saw on entering the office was a large brown desk. A computer was set on top of it. It was not on the center of the desk but on the right and slanted. On the left were two bins with stacks of papers. In the center was a writing station complete with a fountain pen.

In front of the desk were three leather recliner chairs, all brown, on top of a tan rug with red, blue, yellow, and green geometrical designs that reminded Bilbo of flowers. He guessed that Thorin’s mother might have picked it out, but couldn’t be sure. Beneath the rug was a dark wood, polished floor.

The walls were white and undecorated. Not even a strip of wallpaper lined the edges.

To Bilbo’s left was a large bookshelf sparsely filled to his dismay. A few of the shelves held a decoration of some kind: a vase, old books pinned between stone book ends, a framed photograph, and in the very center of it, a large diamond like jewel. Or was it a sapphire? Bilbo couldn’t be sure, but it was pretty. Most likely as useless as the other decorations—really, who uses a bookcase for anything _but_ books?—but still rather pretty.

“So this is the teacher,” a voice growled.

Bilbo froze, turning to the owner.

Thrain stood beside a table with several bottles of alcohol and the sight twisted Bilbo’s stomach and made his teeth grind. The man himself was tall, though not as tall as Thorin. He had the same nose and colder eyes. His beard was fuller and his long hair braided down his back. Bilbo noted a blue inked tattoo on Thrain’s neck under the collar. He lifted a glass of bourbon—or what Bilbo thought was bourbon—in his hand.

“Bit young to be a teacher, aren’t you?”

“Actually, Sir,” Bilbo said, clasping his hands behind his back and staring straight into Thrain’s eyes. “I completed my degree at Rivendell University a little less than a year ago. I may be young, but I am qualified.” Bilbo stepped forward, extending a hand. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

Thrain stared at the hand as though Bilbo had handed him a dead skunk. Bilbo pulled his hand away, and cleared his throat. “I’m, uh, was given the impression that there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding between us, Mr. Durin.”

“I will determine that, Lad.”

Bilbo ruffled at being called “Lad.” He was nearly thirty for God’s sake!

Thrain leaned on his desk, staring Bilbo down. He refused to be cowed, meeting Thrain’s gaze with an ease he did not realize he had.

“Kili has told me he wants out and that you suggested it.”

“I did no such thing,” Bilbo said. “On Friday, after school, he asked me to give him advice. He told me he wanted ‘out’ and that he desired to go to college. If he wants ‘out,’ as you say, it is not of my doing but his own decision. I do not think his decision has, in any way, been meant in spite, Mr. Durin. Kili wants to go to college. He wants a normal life. There is nothing treasonous about what he told me or you.

“Most parents and grandparents would be glad to hear their children and grandchildren say want to go to college. College is a good place for young adults to discover themselves without their families hovering over them. He is _eighteen years old_ , Mr. Durin. Kili is more than capable of making his own decisions. He doesn’t need me or you telling him what to do or how to think or feel. Or would you rather have him be the puppet I’ve noticed your other grandson is?”

Thrain glared at Bilbo. “You think Fili works for me outside his own free will?”

“I think he was indoctrined into gang-life much earlier than Kili was. That, Mr. Durin, is brainwashing.”

“You’ve a lot of nerve telling me I had brainwashed my grandson.”

“ _You’ve_ a lot of _nerve_ accusing me of brainwashing _my student_!” Bilbo snapped.

He ignored Thorin’s audible groan.

“I cannot think of _any_ parent not being proud to hear their child wants to go to college! What sort of city is this when a teenager is accused of something as _stupid_ as treason for expressing a desire to continue their education?! How does that make _any_ sense to you?!”

Thrain stared at him with a mixture of fury, confusion, and shock. He set his glass on the desk and crossed his arms, before approaching Bilbo and staring down at him.

Bilbo met his gaze unblinking and unwavering.  A part of him wondered if Thrain was going to kill him now, but he seemed numb to the thought.

Then he laughed. Thrain _laughed_ and clapped Bilbo’s shoulder.

“I see why you’ve taken a shine to him, Thorin,” Thrain said. “He’s got some sass.” He turned back to Bilbo. “All right: Kili acted alone. I overreacted. But one misstep and I will run you out of my town.”

“Dad!”

“And kill you if you come back.”

“Fair enough,” Bilbo said.

He didn’t want to stay in Erebor anyway. It was just another few months before his lease was up too.

“What?! Dad—”

“Leave it, Thorin,” Thrain demanded. “He knows what’s good for him.”

Thorin silenced, glowering at Thrain in repressed fury.

“Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Baggins?”

“I don’t drink alcohol,” he said. “My father was an alcoholic,” he explained to Thrain’s raised eyebrow. “So I made the decision not to touch the stuff. Besides, I should get back to school.”

Thrain hummed. “I suppose so. Do care not to find yourself in this office again.”

“Gladly.”

Thrain waved them away, reminding Bilbo of an arrogant king. The thought made his teeth grind, but he followed Thorin out.

Thorin pressed his phone to his ear. “I’ll drive,” he said. “Have my car ready by the time I’m down.” Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s arm and pulled him aside. He pinned Bilbo against the wall. “What the fuck were you thinking agreeing with him?! You’re needed here!”

“No I’m _not_ ,” Bilbo stressed. “English teachers are easy to find. Go to any university. You’ll find that English Ed Majors tend to outweigh English Literature Majors. Also, your father didn’t give me much of a choice. Besides, I still have no intention of staying in Erebor. Why should I stay? Why does it matter so much to you if I stay or not?”

“Because I love you!” Thorin hissed. He lowered his hands to his sides. “I’m hopelessly, intoxicatingly, insanely in love with you.”

Bilbo stared at him. He had suspected that Thorin was in love with him, but…He shook his head.

“You can’t be in love with me, Thorin. You don’t even know me.”

“You won’t _let_ me know you.” His phone buzzed and he answered. “Hello. Yes. Good. Be down in a moment.”

He hung up and pulled Bilbo along. Bilbo grit his teeth. This was bad. Very bad.

A Mafioso is in love with him—he just shouted at said Mafioso’s _father_ and _boss_.

Bilbo paused, and fell, clutching his stomach and curled in a ball, balanced on the balls of his feet.

“Bilbo?”

“M’fine,” he groaned. “Just a little queasy…oh fuck! I’m going to vom…where’s the loo?”

Thorin pulled him up and helped him to the bathroom. Bilbo ran into a stall and spewed into the bowl. He spat, gasping for air. His stomach flipped and he vomited again.

“Bilbo?” Thorin entered the stall, rubbing his back. “It’s all right,” he whispered.

Bilbo shook his head. It was anything _but_. He wanted to run, wanted to put as much distance between him and Erebor as possible. His eyes watered and he didn’t know if it was from the smell of vomit or from the weight he felt crashing onto his shoulders.

Thorin stood, promising to return with water, and left. Bilbo flushed the toilet and wiped his mouth and tongue free of his sick with a paper towel. Thorin returned with water for him. Bilbo rinsed his mouth out and took out some gum to chew.

“Feeling better?”

“Not much,” Bilbo admitted. He felt cold and dizzy.

Thorin caught him by his shoulders, guiding him out of the room. “I’ll take you home.”

“And have me get sick all over your upholstery?” Bilbo asked, partially threatening.

“Just let me know and we’ll pull over,” he said.

“You lost too much blood.”

“What?”

Bilbo closed his eyes. “You were bleeding to death. We both know you were delirious.”

“Then why do I still love you?” Thorin countered. “Why would I still want to see you and why does it tear my heart apart when you said you don’t want to see _me_? I’ve never been clearer, Bilbo. You’re beautiful, and caring, and—”

“For god’s sake, we barely _met_!”

“Ergo I can’t have fallen in love with you?”

“Yes. If you’re mistaking what you feel for lust, that’d make much more sense.”

They entered the garage and the chilled cement was a blessing to Bilbo’s seemingly overheated skin.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, pulling away from Thorin and leaning against a pillar.

“Are you feeling sick again?”

“Give me a moment…please…” Bilbo said, unbuttoning his collar. “Shit…”

“Why do you think you got so sick so suddenly?”

“I just yelled at your father, the most powerful man in the city. Add that to an unwanted love confession and yeah, I’m a bit queasier than I thought.”

Thorin pulled Bilbo off the pillar and Bilbo tried to get away from him.

“You’re too hot.”

“Hot as in?”

He glared at Thorin’s smirk. “Heat…fine, _both_ , but I’m certainly not trying to get away from your dashing looks…I shouldn’t have said that.”

Thorin snorted and helped Bilbo toward a black sports car. Bilbo climbed into the passenger’s seat, leaning against the window as Thorin circled around to the driver’s seat. Thorin drove out of the garage up to the ground floor.

“You said a moment ago that I’m mistaking love for lust,” Thorin said as the City Council Building disappeared around a corner. “Lust certainly factors into how I feel for you. I won’t deny that I desire you and that I want to have sex with you. But it’s _more_ than that, Bilbo. If you simply _hinted_ that you wanted the world or the moon, I would give it if I could. Anything your heart desires, anything you wish for, I would give it to you so long as it is in my power to give. I want to know you personally, as a friend and a lover. You don’t want to get involved with my family? Fine, I will do all I can to make that possible. You also wanted to be able to work in peace, so I made sure you could.”

Bilbo didn’t answer, staring out the window.

“You won’t leave the mafia, though,” he whispered, unsure if Thorin heard him. “That’s the deal breaker and that’s only thing you won’t do. Isn’t it?”

#

He leaned in his desk chair, reading an analytical essay that made him want to cry.

Especially at the end. Ending an essay with _#yolo_ was a guaranteed fail.

 _You poor, miserable soul,_ he thought as he wrote the grade and a note about needing to talk to the student after class. First period had not yet begun and it was already a long day.

Someone rapped on the door and he looked up.

“Kili, come in,” Bilbo said. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping into the room. “I thought my grandfather was going to fit you in cement boots yesterday. I swear, I didn’t mean for—”

Bilbo held his hand up. “I’m fine, Kili. I didn’t come back because after yelling at your grandfather for being unreasonable I understandably got sick, so I went home.”

“And you’re already back?”

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t have come back today. It wasn’t like I caught an actual bug or anything. I’m fine. You’re grandfather and I cleared the air.”

“He threatened you, didn’t he?”

“There was a mention of being run out of town, but…” Bilbo shrugged. “Choose better words next time.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Kili said. “What’s that? Tests?”

“Essays,” Bilbo said, picking up the next. “The sorriest essays I’ve ever seen. One idiot said that Heathcliff was a gentleman.”

“Heathcliff? _Wuthering Heights_ Heathcliff?”

“The very same.”

“How does anyone mistake him for a gentleman? The guy was an awful husband and father. The story’s entirely about revenge on everyone who wronged him from his adopted family to the guy who stole his girl and even on the following generation.”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo said, massaging his forehead.  “Some students think they can get by just by…skimming, I suppose. Said student would have fared better if they used Spark Notes.” He smiled at Kili. _Maybe there is some hope here._ “You’re certain that it’s entirely about revenge?”

“Heathcliff loses Catherine to…uh…”

“Edgar. Yeah. But he still loved her with all his heart. What was once a passionate love became a sort of courtly love.” Bilbo set the essay down. “That love ended up destroying him in the end, made him bitter and angry at the world. Heathcliff was awful and he was driven by revenge. But even toward death, he was hallucinating, believed Catherine was haunting him.”

“That’s screwed up.”

Bilbo shrugged. “It’s a gothic romance. They tend to be screwed up in some way or other.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re here early.”

“Yeah, I was a little more worried than I usually would have been. Fili thinks I lost my mind.”

“I think you have, too. There’s still fifteen minutes till school starts. I’m usually not here  this early myself without a reason…”

“Which is?”

“I didn’t do any work yesterday. This,” he patted the stacks, “Is my atonement.”

“Sorry I’m not sorry,” Kili said, a smirk tugging on his lips. The bell rang and Kili went to his seat, sitting on the desk.

“You know, for once, you could actually sit in your seat?”

Kili turned around to face him, his smirk widening. “Where’s the fun in that?”

#

“Thank you for coming with me,” Balin said.

“You’re welcome,” Bilbo replied, “But I’m still confused why you wanted me to come with you to…a house.” Blocked by a cement fence and iron gate, the house was brick with a shingled roof. The chimney was built into the right side.

“This is the orphanage,” Balin said. “The caretaker asked me to come and meet with some of the children who live here, see if we can get them scholarships.”

Bilbo looked around for a plaque and saw none. “This is the orphanage?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not that big,” Bilbo said. “I thought it’d be bigger. And would have a more specific name. Like Wammy’s or Quigley’s.”

“There aren’t as many Orphans in Erebor as you think and there’s only one orphanage. These children lost their parents in gang wars, to disease, or were thrown out and this ends up being the safest place for them. Especially if they’re found by the Durins.”

“It’s owned by the mafia?”

 Balin opened the gate. “The house is leased as an orphanage by the Durins. But it is actually run by the Risons. The caretaker, Ori Rison, is a certified social worker. He has a brother who works as a debt collector for the Durin Family. Of course, that didn’t go well, so they had to switch the collector.”

 _Dwalin_.

Balin knocked. “I heard the current debt collector for the orphanage harasses them,” Bilbo said. Balin shook his head.

“That’s a misunderstanding. My brother collects the rent from the orphanage. He has a crush on Ori, but Dwalin’s just a bumbling idiot who can’t do more than scowl at him.”

Bilbo furrowed his brow. “Isn’t…isn’t Thorin Durin’s body guard named Dwalin?”

Balin nodded. “One and the same.”

The door opened and a little girl stood in the doorway, looking at them with wide blue eyes and her thumb in her mouth. She wore a denim blue dress and green socks.

“Hello, little miss,” Balin said. “Is Ori home?” She nodded, but didn’t move from the doorway. “May we come in?” She shook her head.

“Sarah?”

She looked behind her, pulling her thumb out of her mouth and wiped the saliva on her skirt.

A man entered their line of vision. He wasn’t much taller than Bilbo. He wore grey slacks and a knit, red cardigan, over a white and black striped button up shirt. His hair was fiery orange.

“Sarah, why did you answer the door?”

“Was closest,” she said, letting the man pick her up and balance her on his hip. “They bad?”

He ignored her, extending his free hand to Balin. “Thanks for coming. And this is?”

“Bilbo Baggins.” He held his hand out and Ori grasped it.

“Bilbo’s our English teacher and youngest staff member at the high school.”

“That must help your students like you.”

“They’ve played way too many pranks on me, to be honest.”

“Well, they haven’t run you out of town yet. That must mean something,” Ori said. “Come on in. The parlor’s on your right and I’ll be back in a bit. This one,” he shifted Sarah higher on his hip, “is supposed to be taking a nap with the other rugrats.”

“Not a rat,” Sarah said, “I’m a girl.”

“Yes you are,” Ori agreed. “And good girls take their nap, right?”

“Right.” Bilbo and Balin entered the parlor.

“I’m man enough to admit that that was adorable,” Bilbo said.

“I wish we could handle the adorable ones. They are easy compared to teenagers, I suppose.”

“So true.” _If you don’t factor in all the questions and the crying and the poop._ “But I’d rather not be considered a babysitter. That would just be a waste of all my work.”

“You don’t like children, don’t you?”

“Not really.”

The furniture, simply put, was ugly and well used. They were fabric and there were juice stains almost everywhere. Most of it, Bilbo supposed, were donations as nothing matched. It almost reminded of Grandma Baggins’ sitting room.

The floor was wood and there were scratches all over it. Even the coffee table was stained and worn. There were even crayon marks on the table.

There was a chest pushed against the wall filled with toys. A bookshelf was haphazardly stacked with books for all ages from _The Little Engine That Could_ to _Harry Potter_ apart from the coloring books and a box of broken crayons.

The windows were dirty with hand prints.

Bilbo and Balin sat on the couch and waited for Ori to return. And when he entered the room, he set a ceramic tea-set on a tray on the table before sitting in a tartan recliner chair.

“Again, thanks for coming, Balin.”

“Of course! I’m happy to help them get into Erebor High if I can,” Balin said, serving himself a cup of tea. “You understand, though, I can’t offer them a full scholarship.”

“No, I know. But the less of the Durins I have to deal with the better.”

“I understand,” Balin said.

Bilbo let them talk, unsure exactly where he fit in. He thanked Ori for the tea and caught sight of someone outside by the gate. He furrowed his brow and snuck closer to the window.

“Is something wrong?” Ori asked. Bilbo looked at him and Balin. Both were staring at him. Bilbo backed away from the window.

“No, no, it’s just that someone’s by the gate.”

Ori groaned hiding his face in his hands and muttering under his breath. Balin stood, setting the cup down. “Bilbo, how about you take over for a bit while I talk to Dwalin.”

“Oh, okay…”

He left the room and Bilbo sat back down. “Happens a lot, doesn’t it? Him stopping by.”

“More than necessary,” Ori said. “He comes by every other day or so and just… _stands_ there. If he wasn’t mafia I’d have called the police a long time ago. As it is, there’s not much I can do. I told him not to come by unless it was to collect the rent because he scares the children.”

_I see why he and Thorin are paired together now. They have mastered being creeps._

“That cannot…be convenient,” Bilbo said. Ori scoffed.

“I’d rather deal with anyone _but_ him. Dwalin is…a piece of work. At first it was unnerving, then it was annoying and now it’s just—”

“Scary?”

“Yes.”

“Have you tried talking to his boss?”

“Oakenshield? Yes. I have. But for some reason, Dwalin doesn’t listen to him. He keeps coming by and I just…I don’t know what to do besides contact Thrain and I would _really_ rather not do that.”

Bilbo agreed. He wouldn’t want to take it to the head of the mafia either.


	6. Chapter 6

“You saw Dwalin at the orphanage?” Thorin asked.

“Yes,” Bilbo replied, pinning his cell phone between his ear and shoulder as he rescued the biscuits from the oven. He stared at them, wondering if he ought to bring some to class tomorrow. Bilbo sighed. _Why did I even bother baking?_ “Ori admitted to being scared and that Dwalin frightens the kids. Isn’t there something you can do about it?”

“I wish,” Thorin said. “You’ve figured out that any time I try to be romantic comes out as…well…”

“Creepy? Unnerving? Inappropriate?”

“Well, that’s one way to put it,” Thorin sighed. “Dwalin’s the same way, I’m afraid. We try to be romantic and it just blows up in our faces. When one of us is in love, we tend to be a bit idiotic and do everything wrong from being touchy-feely—”

“Touchy-feely?” Bilbo said, voice thick with sarcasm.

“You know what I mean! As I was saying: we’re either trying to cop a feel or hiding in plain sight where we can see our _interest_ , so to speak.”

“You both need lessons on flirting. You’re going at it all wrong and it’s immature.”

“Sorry.” Bilbo’s shoulders slump. At least Thorin sounds genuinely upset that he freaked Bilbo out early on their date. “It wasn’t intentional. Besides, you got to know me a little bit and _liked_ me.” Now he sounded smug. Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bilbo?”

“I’m still here. And you’re right. You weren’t as bad as I first thought. I’m not excusing your behavior. Nor am I excusing Dwalin, but it’s good to know his intentions aren’t malicious. How about this, I’ll help Dwalin get into Ori’s good graces. If I can give you a chance, maybe Ori can give Dwalin one.”

“If I could, I would kiss you right now,” Thorin said.

“You’ve not earned that right yet,” Bilbo snapped.

“Fine. Fine, condemn a lonely man to yearn from afar, why don’t you?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic.”

Thorin laughed. “You’ve not _seen_ melodramatic, yet, my burglar.”

Bilbo gaped at the biscuits as though they were dogs who had an accident all over his furniture. “ _Excuse me_? Did you just call me a _burglar_?!”

“I did. You stole my heart.”

“Oh, God,” Bilbo groaned. “Goodbye, Thorin.”

“Goodbye, my Burglar.”

Bilbo hung up, rolling his eyes. _It’s not cute,_ he thought, scraping the cookies off the baking sheet and lying them on a cooling rack. _Not cute at all_. He sighed, setting the spatula down.

 _How am I supposed to get Dwalin and Ori to go on a date when Ori’s terrified of Dwalin? Damn it, why are these things_ never _easy?!_

#

Meeting with Dwalin to discuss how best to approach Ori left Bilbo in a fit of nerves. Truly, grading homework assignments would be easier and perhaps a much more productive way to spend a Sunday, but as it is, Bilbo agreed to meet Dwalin at Thorin’s condo and is currently making tea on Thorin’s stainless steel stovetop, listening to Dwalin explain the situation from his hand.

Definitely no malicious intent and no extreme obsessive-compulsive tendencies. All he does is observe Ori from his place at the wall, admiring the bloke. He’s not broken in, not stolen from him. Not been caught with Ori’s boxers.

Except…

“Even if you’re not doing anything to cause Ori to really worry, ‘observing and admiring’ him is in fact stalking him.” Bilbo sighed, handing Dwalin a cup of tea. “Plus, you’re a Mafioso, so that is going to put a damper on your relationship. Trust me, I know,” he looked at Thorin in the corner. Thorin cleared his throat and looked at the book in his hand instead. Bilbo sighed. “So if you want my help, you’ll have to do some things you won’t be comfortable doing.”

“Dare I ask?”

“Well, that depends on whether or not you’re willing to ruin your reputation…” Dwalin’s eyes widened and his mouth thinned. Bilbo cleared this throat and took a sip of tea, hoping I’d relieve the awkwardness in the room. It didn’t. “I’m ashamed of myself for saying it, but from your observations, have you noticed anything Ori might like? Something general that won’t hurt anyone? For instance, does he like a certain kind of pastry or flower?”

“Aye.”

“Okay, good. Let’s start there. What is it?”

“Chips.”

Thorin snorted in the corner, earning a deadly glare from Dwalin. Bilbo chuckled nervously. _This is going to take a while._ “You are not starting a relationship with Ori by giving him a bag of fried chips from McDonald’s.”

“ _You’re_ the one who asked!”

“I know. Thorin, any suggestions?”

“No, I’m not getting involved.”

“What’s the pool?” Dwalin asked. Thorin smirked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Bilbo gaped at him. “You’re _gambling_ over your _best friend’s love life_?!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Dwalin muttered. “Speaking of, you cost me ten quid no thanks to your date.”

Bilbo groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “We’ll just do this the classic way,” he said when he looked up. “Dwalin, you’re going to _talk_ to Ori.”

“What?” Dwalin asked, eyes bugging.

“Ouch,” Thorin hissed.

Bilbo turned on him. “If you’re not going to help, then _leave_!”

“But this is my home.”

“One out of many I bet. It’s not like you’re homeless.”

Thorin hunched over his book. “I’ll be quiet,” he promised.

“Thank you.” He turned back to Dwalin. “It’s not that bad. Just tell him you’re sorry for being a creep, you actually like him, a lot, and would like to take him to dinner. If you’re sincere, he might say yes.”

“He might also slam the door in my face.”

“We’ll worry about that when it happens,” Bilbo promised. The likelihood that it could happen, and would, was too high. But if he could go on a date with a Mafioso and live, then so could Ori. “You won’t know for sure if he _will_ say no unless you suck it up and ask him out. You’re a gangster, for God’s sake, this _shouldn’t_ be hard.”

“You’re under the misconception that our employment gives us a kind of confidence that we, honesty, don’t really have,” Thorin said. “For instance, you’re a high school English teacher and I don’t see you wearing a black turtleneck, a beret, sunglasses, and a goatee.”

Bilbo stared at him as though he sprouted an extra head on his shoulder.

“And don’t _ever_ grow a goatee,” Thorin added as an afterthought.

“I don’t intend to,” he said. “It’d be awful.”

“You could do that when you go to get the rent for this month,” Thorin said, turning the page of his book. “It’d give you a more sound reason for you to talk to him without scaring him.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Dwalin said. “That would be successful. ‘Thanks for your money, wanna grab a bite with me next weekend?’ _That_ would work.”

“Actually it might,” Bilbo said.

Dwalin stared at him. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I save my humor for the classroom,” Bilbo said, smiling back. “But I put my foot down on _Beorn’s_. Nothing against the place, I actually liked it there. You just probably shouldn’t take Ori to a casino on your first date.” Thorin joined Bilbo on the couch, trying to kiss him. Bilbo blocked him with a pillow. “And whatever you do, do _not_ act like this buffoon. If you know a place you and Ori would both like, that would be where to go.”

Thorin glared at Bilbo and hugged the pillow that had so cruelly blocked him, refusing to look at him.

Dwalin sighed. “Can’t say I don’t agree,” he said. Thorin flipped him off. “But if this doesn’t work—”

“Then keep trying,” Bilbo said. “Ori’s a nice guy and you’d be lucky to have him in your life. You think he’s worth fighting for, don’t you?” Dwalin glared at him, and nodded. Bilbo smiled. “He’ll take that into consideration, at least. Personally, I’d find that comforting.” Bilbo stood. “Good luck.”

“Where are you going?” Thorin asked.

“Home. To grade homework.”

“Ugh, sounds tedious.”

“You’ve no idea, but it’s got to get done some time.”

#

In the end, Ori did agree to go to dinner with Dwalin, albeit reluctantly and with a promise of bodily harm from both of Ori’s brothers who ended up being there at the time.

Bilbo felt proud of the accomplishment, but he wasn’t entirely sure why Thorin felt it necessary to spy on them. Or why it was necessary for Bilbo to go with him.

But there they were, hiding in a corner where they could see Ori and Dwalin enjoying sirloin steak burgers, beer, and sharing a chip platter. Well, RAM might not bet the classy Bilbo had in mind, but Ori looked like he was having fun. He’d relent and _not_ slap Dwalin atop the head.

“What are you doing?” Bilbo asked when Thorin pulled out his phone.

“Checking the pool. It’s not too late to contribute.” He grinned at Bilbo, who glowered.

“You’re despicable, you know that. He’s your best friend. You should try to be a little more supportive.”

“I’m being plenty supportive.”

Bilbo took the phone out of his hand. “Three people thought he’d be rejected flat out. Two thinks they’ll not get past the front door. Eight thought it’d end before dinner even began, five guessed that Ori would leave him hanging in the middle of dinner, and one—oh…”

“See? I’m plenty supportive.”

“You rigged it.”

“I did not,” Thorin said in an affronted manner, plucking his phone out of Bilbo’s hand and pocketing it. “I just have _lots_ of faith in Dwalin. Out of the two of us, he was the most likely to get married _first_.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. Then he nodded. “That actually makes sense.”

“At least he didn’t have to get shot in an alley way.”

“That’s _not_ as funny as you think it is,” Bilbo hissed.

“Give it a little time,” Thorin said, leaning back in his seat. “It’ll be hilarious.”

“I doubt that.” Bilbo turned to look at Ori and Dwalin. Their table was empty and a bus boy was clearing the dishes away. “Thorin, they’re gone.”

“What?” He looked at the table and swore. They got up and ran out of the restaurant.

“I don’t see them.”

“Fuck—”

“Come on,” Bilbo said, picking a direction and running. Thorin followed. The only problem Bilbo could think of in this plan was that they had no idea where Dwalin and Ori could have gone. They even might have taken a cab somewhere and _where_ was unknown.

“Think they might’ve gone somewhere else for desert?” Thorin asked, peering into a book shop.

 _Desert? The restaurant!_ Bilbo groaned, sitting on a the book shop’s step.

“Bilbo?”

“We forgot to pay,” he said. His stomach roiled and he leaned over. Thorin stared at him and began to laugh. “It’s _not_ funny! Thorin I’ve never committed a crime in my life!”

“Sorry, it’s just I’ve never dined-and-dashed either,” he said. “Not bad for a first time offender though, you’re quite quick. I’ll handle it later. You’re not going to vom are you?”

“No,” Bilbo promised, standing.

“Come on,” Thorin said. “They can’t have gotten far—”

A car drove into a large puddle, splashing water onto the sidewalk and Thorin’s pants. He swore, jumping back. Bilbo covered his mouth, trying not to laugh, despite Thorin’s furious glare. He turned to Bilbo. “You’re laughing?!”

“Thorin, getting splashed by a puddle happens all the time,” Bilbo said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a—this is a _Brioni_!”

“It’s _grey_. It’ll dry. Besides, why are you wearing a suit when jeans and a t-shirt would work better?” Thorin stared at the ground, arms crossed and looking very much like a petulant child. Bilbo sighed. “Seriously? You don’t own jeans or a t-shirt?”

“I’m a businessman—”

“You’re a _Mafioso_. You don’t need to wear flashy suits all the time. Who are you trying to emulate? Al Capone? C’mon,” He grabbed his arm. “If you’re going to whine this much about your clothes being wet, we may as well get you something dry.” They walked around, searching for a clothing store.

Arriving at the Gap, Bilbo pushed Thorin in and explained the situation to the sales associate while he let Thorin look around. The woman agreed to let Thorin wear the clothes out of the store, providing a bag for his suit. Finding a combination he could live with, Thorin paid for the clothes despite Bilbo’s protests that he didn’t mind paying, had the tags and security tags removed and went to change into dark blue jeans, a charcoal v-neck short sleeved t-shirt, dry long-necked socks, navy sneakers, and a navy jacket.

“I feel underdressed,” Thorin admitted with a scowl after they left, bag dripped tightly in his hand. Bilbo stared at him.

“I fear what will happen if I say this, but you actually look more approachable now,” Bilbo said. “And more attractive then when you wear a suit,” he added, turning away. Thorin stared at him and Bilbo tried to avoid Thorin’s eyes.

“Really?”

“Fine, yes: you don’t need a suit to look handsome, Thorin. You naturally _are_ and wearing normal clothes is much easier to make you relatable compared to a suit. Regardless of designer. Besides, aren’t these more comfortable than your _Armani_ anyway?”

“It’s _Brioni_ , and I’ll admit that they are.”

 Bilbo smirked at him. “Touchy about your designers?”

“You’d be too if you wore two thousand quid—”

“ _TWO THOUSAND QUID?!_ ” Bilbo shouted. “Thorin, that’s about…ten percent of my _annual_ _income_! Give or take! That much tends to pay my rent, clothes, food…”

“Bilbo, breathe.”

“No! You were wearing my entire living expenses! How does that make any sense to you?!”

Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s shoulders and kissed him. Bilbo squeaked and pushed him away. He slapped Thorin. Thorin rubbed his cheek. “Better?” he asked, lowering his hand. His injured cheek reddened in the dim light. Bilbo’s hands shook. He walked to the wall of a brick building and leaned against it.

“Yeah. No. I don’t know,” Bilbo groaned. “Should we keep looking for Dwalin and Ori, or…”

“Oh, they’re long gone by now,” Thorin said. He cringed, raising his hand to his neck and looking up. “Shit, it’s raining again.” He grabbed Bilbo’s hand and pulled him into the nearest open door. Thorin sighed. “This is ridiculous.”

“More ridiculous than dine-and-dashing?” Bilbo asked.

“That is more funny than ridiculous,” Thorin said. Bilbo snorted. “You think the same, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” he said, lacking bite. Bilbo turned from the window to look around.

They were in a waiting room. A reception desk stood in the center, cutting the room in half between them and an office. Thorin sat in one of the chairs beside a table covered in travel magazines. A rotating stand held different brochures advertising Erebor and the surrounding area.

“Hello, gentlemen,” a tall, balding man greeted, stepping in. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Oh, we weren’t—”

“We just wanted to escape the weather…”

“I see,” the man said with a chuckle. “Still, if you’d like a room for the night…”

Bilbo and Thorin exchanged a glance. The rain wasn’t going to let up any time soon and it’d been a rather tiring night anyway. “All right,” Bilbo said, standing. Thorin stopped him, paying for the room and taking the room key. Bilbo scowled at Thorin. “Are you _ever_ going to let me pay?”

“Why?” Thorin asked, grinning at him. “You can’t afford _Brioni_ , so let me spoil you.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, following him to their room. Thorin turned on the light and they stared at the one King sized bed in the center of the room. Bilbo sighed.

“I feel like the universe is conspiring against me right now.”

Thorin sighed, setting the bag down on the table beside the coffee pot. He sat on the edge of the bed. Bilbo followed him inside and the door clicked shut behind him and he turned the lock, hoping to stave off thieves or whoever else might show up.

“I won’t touch, fondle, or grope you,” Thorin said. “No matter how enticing you are. Scouts honor.” He pulled his hair free of the hair tie, eyes downcast.

Bilbo sat in the chair, pulling his shoes off.

“Why do you dislike me?”

Bilbo looked up at Thorin, startled. Thorin refused to look at him, staring at his hands.

“I don’t know you well enough to like or dislike you,” he said. “And so far, you’ve been nothing but sweet. Unless we count how much you like to touch me without my consent. I also told you I don’t want to be involved with the mafia.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Bilbo snapped. “Because I don’t know how many times I’ve had to tell you this—”

“What I understand is that you don’t see me beyond that I’m a Mafioso,” Thorin said, facing Bilbo. He bit his lip and lowered his eyes so not to look at the sharp, intense stare Thorin fixed him with. “Being the heir of the Durin Family is not the only thing about me, Bilbo. I’m _trying_ to keep my distance, butit isn’t working. How can it when you have become so present in my life? Have you been telling yourself you’re being cautious? Bilbo, you’re cruel!”

He winced. He had guessed, once or twice, that he might have been horrid to Thorin. “What do you want from me?” Bilbo asked. “A fling? Just a one night stand? I’ve been pursued for that end in mind before and I refuse to let that happen again.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think,” Thorin said. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I’d give you the moon if I could. I don’t want a fling. I want a relationship with you. I want to make your every wish come true. I hate to admit it, but I’m going mad!” He chuckled, weakly. “Damn it, I’ve never felt like this toward anyone before and I hate how needy I sound right now…”

Bilbo looked up. Thorin hid his face in a hand, hunched over. “Most would have given up by now.”

“I’m close to giving up, whether I do or not is up to you. I love you. I want to know you, Bilbo. And I’m afraid of these feelings I have when I’m around you.” Thorin breathed deeply. His breathing shook.

“I’m terrified,” Bilbo admitted. “I’m terrified of _you_. I don’t mean to hurt you, Thorin, but I’m scared of what will happen to my life if I let you get near to me. What if I become a target? What if—”

“I won’t let that happen,” Thorin said. He stood and approached Bilbo, kneeling before him and taking his hands in his. “I’ll protect you. I’m not going to hurt you, and I won’t let you get hurt by anyone. I just want a chance to prove it.”

Bilbo swallowed. “I went on a second date with you, didn’t I? Wouldn’t that count as a chance?” He stared at Thorin’s hands still holding his. “Both times I went out with you had been fun.”

“Really?”

Bilbo smiled at the hope in Thorin’s voice. “Yes. This time especially.”

“It didn’t go the way I hoped.”

“The way we were hoping was that we’d continue spying on Dwalin and Ori throughout _their_ date,” Bilbo said. “Namely for your betting pool. We’ll get the results of it later and I ended up having more fun than I had before. But this is the only time I’ll dine-and-dash.”

He shifted his gaze to Thorin’s face. Thorin was staring at him again and smiling. “It is not fair that I didn’t find you until now,” he said. “Completely unfair.”

Bilbo swallowed, mouth gone dry.

“Bilbo, can I kiss you?” Thorin asked. Heat rose to Bilbo’s cheeks, and he stared at their hands again.

 _Well, he did ask this time_ , he thought, daring to look at Thorin’s mouth. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Thorin’s. He pulled his hands free from Thorin’s and laced them through thick, black and silver locks. Thorin had froze, tense and rigid before returning the kiss.

Bilbo licked the seam of Thorin’s mouth, which opened for him. He slid his tongue into Thorin’s mouth. Thorin’s tongue danced with Bilbo’s, vying for dominance. Bilbo couldn’t remember the last time he kissed someone like this.

Thorin’s hands burned through his pants to the skin and a curling heat grew inside him. He pulled his tongue away and nipped Thorin’s lower lip. Thorin lifted Bilbo off the chair and carried him to the bed. He lay Bilbo down and broke the kiss.

“Tell me to stop now,” Thorin said. “I don’t know if I’ll be able stop later to if you let me continue.”

Bilbo growled, pulling him back down and kissing him violently. Rationally, stopping would be smart, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to stop. Bilbo pushed the jacket off Thorin’s shoulder, locking his legs around Thorin’s waist. Thorin pressed his hips down against Bilbo’s. Bilbo moaned when their groins touched. He pulled on Thorin’s hair.

 _Will I regret this?_ Bilbo thought. _I won’t be able to turn back if we do this. Can I live with that? **Yes.** If I do this, I will have to commit myself to it. **Fine.** But fuck, he’s gorgeous and he wants _me _! I want him right now…If I do this, no take backs, no holding back, no walking out until it has run its course. Can I live with that? **Yes…fuck yes…I can do this. I don’t want to be alone anymore.**_

 Bilbo broke the kiss. “Do you have a condom?”

“I wasn’t hoping…” Thorin said.

Bilbo pushed him on his back and unzipped his jeans and pulling out a hard, leaking cock.

“Bilbo—”

“Let me,” Bilbo said, pumping Thorin’s length. “I’ll date you, be your boyfriend or partner, whatever fits best, but I’m tired of being alone.”

“Even though I’m a Mafioso?”

“I’ll learn to live with that,” Bilbo said, flicking his thumb over the head. Thorin bucked his hips. “I can live with you being a Mafioso, so long as I’m not involved in any of it. You said I was cruel. Make me regret being cruel to you.”

Thorin grabbed his hair and pulled him down into a kiss. He grabbed Bilbo’s wrist and pulled his hand away from his cock, rolling Bilbo onto his back, nearly ripping the buttons off Bilbo’s shirt in his haste, licking a pearled nipple. Bilbo shoved the t-shirt up Thorin’s torso as Thorin unzipped Bilbo’s jeans, tugging them down. Bilbo pulled his feet free of the pant legs and moaned when Thorin rubbed their cocks together, running his hands over Thorin’s muscled torso.

He locked his legs around Thorin’s waist again, rolling his hips up against Thorin’s, pulling him down for another kiss, arms wrapped around Thorin’s neck. Thorin’s hands lifted Bilbo’s hips and the rubbing intensified. Their breath mingled, panting growing more laborious. Bilbo arched his back and his mouth opened in a silent scream as his orgasm ripped through his body, Thorin’s not far behind. Thorin dropped him and pushed himself off Bilbo, lying on his back.

“Not exactly how I hoped it’d go,” he admitted. Bilbo hummed, standing. “Where are you going?”

“To take a shower,” he said, removing his shirt. “You can take one after if you’re up for it. If not, just let me know.”

“I might be more inclined if I can join you,” Thorin teased.

Bilbo set his glasses down. “What’s stopping you, then?” he asked, smirking at his new lover. Thorin stared at him and then stood, pushing Bilbo into the bathroom.


	7. Chapter 7

Bilbo’s fingers combed through Thorin’s hair. He stared at the ceiling as the sky lightened behind the curtains. Thorin shifted, pulling Bilbo closer to him and moaning softly. He raked his fingers through Thorin’s mane again.

_What have I gotten myself into? How am I going to get out of Erebor now?_

Thorin sighed and Bilbo stole a glance at him.

 _Damn him_ , he thought, nails scratching lightly at Thorin’s scalp. _A criminal shouldn’t look so peaceful in his sleep. Let alone should I ever_ want _him to look at me at all…Nor does it help that he’s fucking gorgeous and too sweet and…_

 _Run its course_ , he thought, sighing. _Let it run its course. Who knows? It might not be as bad as I fear it’ll be._

Bilbo glanced at the clock flashing seven AM at him. He felt a gentle flutter against his skin followed by the press of lips against his chest.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Good morning,” Thorin replied huskily. Bilbo bit his lip. It wasn’t fair. No one should have a voice that sexy this early in the morning! “Did I wake you?”

Bilbo shook his head. “I’ve been up for about an hour,” he admitted, “Internal clock and all.”

Thorin released him, propping up on his side and looking at the clock. “Huh.”

“What?”

“I’m usually up around the same time you are if not earlier…”

“You were sleeping well. It happens,” Bilbo said. “And it is Sunday, sleeping in is something I _wish_ I could do on weekends generally.” He let his head sink into the pillow. “Damn internal alarm,” he muttered. Thorin took his hand and kissed it reverently. “You know: most would have given up when they’re told no. You didn’t. Why?”

Thorin stared at him, supporting his head in the palm of his hand, staring down at Bilbo. “I thought I would, even told myself I _should_ ,” he said. I just…each time I tried telling myself I could be content just watching you from afar—” Thorin cut himself off, wincing. “That sounds creepier than I meant it to.”

“I’ll overlook it,” Bilbo said, sighing. They’d have to work on Thorin’s penchant for creepiness. It was comforting to know that he didn’t act in such a way or say certain things intentionally. “As you were saying…”

Thorin sighed, rubbing his thumb against Bilbo’s knuckles. “Each time I told myself I could let you go, leave you alone and let you live your life, I always thought ‘what would I do if someone else were to see him how I do, am I really willing to let him go despite everything I feel for him, am I really willing to let him slip through my fingers…’” Thorin sighed. “I couldn’t do it. I knew there would only be so much heartbreak I could take, but I needed to try. As soon as I was certain you weren’t just a hallucination, I needed to try. And when you kept pushing me away, I had wondered if it was worth it. I never expected it bring us here and I still half think that it was just a dream.”

“I assure you, it’s _not_ ,” Bilbo said. “The only thing I regret about last night is that I gave in so quickly, but I meant what I said: if I was cruel in any way, I want you to make me regret it.”

Thorin grinned. “I intend to.”

“That sounds more ominous than it should have,” Bilbo said.

“And that is _not_ my intent,” Thorin promised. “I’ve scared you enough, I think.”

“Scared? Far from it,” Bilbo said. “You’re not scary, just creepy. There’s a difference. One makes you scream and the other makes you shudder. You have only been shudder-worthy so far. Progressively less as time goes on, and I’ll give you points for that.”

He pushed the covers off and stood to gather his clothes and take a shower. He felt Thorin’s eyes bearing into him and chose to ignore him for the sake of having a semblance of hope that they’ll get out of bed and back home in a timely manner.

Bilbo decided that not looking at Thorin ravish him with his eyes was the best way to achieve this goal. So far, it was working quite well as he managed to make it to the bathroom without remembering those firm hands, strong arms, sure lips…

 _Stop it_ , Bilbo berated himself. He turned the water on. _Thinking about last night is also counterproductive. Wonderful as it was. Don’t think about it!_

#

“I still can’t believe you insisted on paying for breakfast after _everything_ else last night!” Bilbo said between bites.

Thorin shrugged. “Well, there’s still the dine-and-dash issue…”

“Don’t remind me!” Bilbo took a drink of tea. “I want to forget that ever happened!” Thorin snorted and grabbed Bilbo’s wrist, stealing a bite from his scone. “Oi! What the hell is that for?!”

“Not bad—”

“If my hands weren’t full I’d hit you!”

“For eating?”

“For eating _my_ food!”

“It’s just a scone, Bilbo. A very _good_ scone, but still a scone.”

“It’s not just a scone! It’s _my_ scone!” Bilbo snapped. Thorin laughed as Bilbo glowered at him and guarded the paper bag his food was protected in.

“You’re being quite protective of a scone.”

“I’ve never liked sharing my food,” Bilbo confessed before stuffing the rest of it in his mouth, earning another barking laugh from Thorin. He swallowed, washing down the rest of his scone with his tea.

Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s waist and kissed him. “I love you,” he said. “And I’ll likely be stealing your food more often because that _reaction_ was just too funny.”

“You will do no such thing if you value your life,” Bilbo threatened, sounding quite serious. Thorin kissed his cheek. “You go ahead and risk it if you like.”

“Maybe later,” Thorin said, “When you have more food.”

Bilbo shook his head, pushing Thorin away. Thorin held onto him tighter, nipping his earlobe. Bilbo sucked in a breath. He should _not_ have told Thorin about that. Not at all. “Behave, will you!”

Thorin pulled him aside, pinning him against the wall and kissing him again. Bilbo made a mental note to discuss time and place with Thorin.

He pushed him away. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are behaving too much like a bad dog jumping all over me like this.”

“Are you going to put a collar on me?” Thorin whispered cheekily in his ear. Bilbo groaned, blushing. Thorin kissed his cheek. “I’ll stop.”

“I can’t decide if I find that horrible or kinky.”

“It’s a bit of both.”

Bilbo took his hand. “Just this when we’re outside,” he said. “You can have your arm around my waist _if_ an only _if_ you can control yourself. Everything else is _indoor_ stuff.”

“All right,” Thorin said, grinning. “Go ahead and take my fun.”

“There is nothing fun about getting caught sucking face in the middle of the day,” Bilbo snapped, pulling him along he could see the brick color of his apartment and slowed. Three black cars were parked in front of the door, surrounded by more black suited men.

“Some of yours?” I ask.

“No,” Thorin said darkly. “They’re from the Gundebad Family.”

“A rival gang?”

Thorin stared at him. “You don’t know?”

“Know…what?”

The door opened and Bilbo’s landlord, Sméagol, was dragged out and thrown to the ground.

Sméagol was a bit odd and sometimes he was downright scary. But such times were only during his episodes. Bilbo didn’t particularly like him, but he hadn’t any valid reason to hate Sméagol either.

In the short time he lived at the complex, Bilbo had learned a little bit of Sméagol’s past drug addiction and, frankly, he learned to pity him. In some ways, he admired his persistence in getting clean.

The only thing illegal he knew his landlord did these days was smoke marijuana. It wasn’t much better, but smoking weed to keep his episodes under control was better than nothing.

A young man stepped out, a police stick in his hand and an eye-patch over his eye.

Thorin pulled Bilbo away. “You don’t want to see that.”

“You’re not going to _do anything_?!”

“There isn’t anything I _can_ do,” Thorin replied.  

There was a crack and a scream.

Thorin pinned Bilbo to the wall when he tried to escape Thorin’s grasp. “If I could intervene, I would. I _can’t_. These streets belong to Gundebad. It’s a risk each time I come here.”

Bilbo stared at him, wincing at another scream. “Thorin, please. That’s my landlord. He’s not a bad man—”

“If I intervene, it won’t bode well for anyone. Not him, not you—” Bilbo ground his teeth. He shoved Thorin and raced at the man beating Sméagol. “BILBO, NO!!!”

The stick collided with Bilbo’s right shoulder, barely beside his neck. A sharp ache spread through his neck and arm and his eyes swelled with unshed tears. He couldn’t breathe. To breathe was the first step to screaming and he refused to scream.

“Get this stupid mother-fucker out of the way!” Eye Patch shouted.

Another man took Bilbo by his tingling arm and lifted him up. Bilbo slammed his left fist into his nose and pushed him back with his foot. The man stumbled back a bit, yet regained his balance, snarling at Bilbo. Eye Patch cackled.

“For your best interest, it’d be better for you to step aside. Heroes don’t last long in this town.”

Bilbo refused to answer, still unsure if he’d scream or not. His legs shook and his head buzzed, making it hard for him to think.

Eye Patch had a long jagged scar from the top of his forehead down to the corner of his mouth, likely blinding him. His age was hard to pinpoint: he could be as young as Kili or around Thorin’s age. He arched a brow at Bilbo and scoffed.

“B-Baggins, get inside,” Sméagol stuttered. “Mr. Gundebad, Sir, he’s—”

“Shut up,” Eye Patch growled. Sméagol whimpered, still cowering behind Bilbo. Eye Patch traced the edge of the stick against Bilbo’s cheek. “You’ve a lot of spunk. I like that. Take him around to the alley and give him a good spanking. If you live after that, come find me—”

A loud crack made Bilbo wince, covering his ears. Eye Patch turned toward the sound and one of his men fell to the ground, clutching his leg. Thorin held a gun still poised.

Bilbo wondered where _that_ came from. He didn’t recall Thorin having it earlier. Did Thorin hide it? If so, _where_?! Bilbo decided he actually didn’t want to know. He’d just be grateful that Thorin had it with him. Or should he be disturbed he brought a gun with him on a date?

Eye Patch snarled. “What are you doing here, Oakenshield?” The glare Thorin fixed on Eye Patch sent chills down Bilbo’s spine. “Where’s your crony? The big bald one?”

“I’m capable of defending myself, Bolg. Step aside.”

“These aren’t your streets. Sméagol here is behind on his payment.”

“And have you asked why that is?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Thorin said. “Especially if he has had tenants move out.”

Bolg hummed. “You wouldn’t care about one weaselly weed-smoker,” he stated, his good eye shifting to Bilbo. “So I’m guessing it’s this one.”

“Leave him alone.”

“Why?” Bolg asked. He turned back to Bilbo and pinched his cheeks, pulling him closer. Bolg was unnaturally pale. His skin was almost blue, making his various scars all the more prominent. “Well, I’ll admit he’s kind of cute, but nothing special.”

“Nothing special? When he jumps between you and a weed-smoker?” Thorin growled. “He’s worth more than you can imagine.”

“Hmm, probably to you,” Bolg said, smirk widening. “Durins have always been more attached to their whores than others.”

Bilbo ground his teeth and snapped his jaw at Bolg, who pulled his hand away. He stared at it, then at Bilbo, amusement lighting his face.

“All right. We’ll leave for now. Move out!” He turned to Thorin. “I see why you like him, Oakenshield. Enjoy this cunt while you can.”

They entered the cars. Once they’d rounded the corner, Thorin put the safety on and pocketed the gun. Bilbo collapsed, the adrenaline rush seeping away, leaving a throbbing pain in his shoulder and neck. Thorin pulled him up and Sméagol shakily rose to his feet.

“Thank you, Baggins,” he said, wringing his hands together. “Still, you shouldn’t have done that.”

“Someone had to,” Bilbo mumbled, pressing his face into Thorin’s chest. He was shaking so much. He didn’t think that was helping his injured shoulder.

“Trust me, you don’t want Bolg looking at you,” Sméagol said. He coughed, covering his mouth in the crook of his arm.

“He’s right, Bilbo,” Thorin said. Sméagol walked past him, favoring one leg over the other, and opened the door.

“Then why are you dealing with them?” Bilbo asked, still clutching to Thorin and entering the building.

“Since I own this place, I don’t have much choice _but_ to deal with the Gundebad Family,” Sméagol said, closing the door behind them. “I’d rather have to deal with the Durin Family or the Lakemen Gang, but I don’t have that sort of luck. It’s not the first time I’ve been late on a payment, nor the first time they’ve beaten me. I survive as well as I can and they get their money when I can get it to them. Still, Baggins, you’ll have to leave here.”

“I’m not leaving because some posh bastard decided to insult me.”

“It’ll get worse,” Sméagol said. “So it’d be better to find a new place to live and soon. Preferably one of _his_ places,” he jabbed his thumb at Thorin. “If you’re both really together, he’ll probably give you a ridiculous discount at one of the better flats in Erebor. Again, thank you. And get your shoulder looked at.” He disappeared into the office and locked the door behind him.

Bilbo pushed against Thorin gently and walked carefully back to his own flat.

Thorin followed him inside. “Take your shirt off,” Thorin demanded.

Bilbo obeyed and sat on the couch.

Thorin knelt in front of him and muttered curses under his breath, fingers brushing against the large bruise. “Fuck, Bilbo.” Thorin lowered his hand and sighed, shakily. “Are you usually this stupid?”

Bilbo bristled. “I asked you to do something and you wouldn’t. Gollum might not be the _best_ guy around, and he can be a little unsettling, but he _doesn’t deserve_ to be beaten like that because he’s late on payments! Who’d be stupid enough to pay the mafia late unless they had a good reason for it?”

“You should be more concerned about your own wellbeing at this point,” Thorin snapped.

He stood and retreated to the kitchen, wrapping an ice pack from the freezer in a towel. He returned and laid it on Bilbo’s shoulder before pulling his phone out and calling someone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Family physician,” he said. “He’ll come down as soon as he can to look at you.”

“Can’t we just go to the walk-in clinic instead?” Bilbo asked.

“I’m not moving you more than need be!”

“Christ’s sake, it’s just a bruise!”

“I’m not taking any chances!” Thorin shouted, startling Bilbo. He closed his eyes and breathed shakily. “Bilbo, please don’t be stubborn right now. _Please_ …Gloin! Thank _god_ you answered. Where is O—never mind, he’d probably not hear me well enough anyway. Write this down: my partner’s shoulder’s been injured. It’s just bruised right now, but I’m a bit worried it’s worse than that…Yes. I put an ice pack on it. Okay,” he lowered the phone. “Do you have ibuprofen somewhere?”

“I have Advil in the bathroom behind the mirror,” Bilbo said. “It’s the first door on the left.”

Thorin retreated to the bathroom. Bilbo readjusted the ice pack, moving it a little closer to his neck. Thorin returned with the bottle and a glass of water. “Okay, thank you, Gloin. I’ll see you two in a few minutes. Bye.” He opened the bottle and shook two tablets free.

Bilbo took the tablets and placed them on his tongue before grabbing the glass and pressed the rim of the cup to his lips and drank, swallowing the pills and lying back.

Thorin sat beside him. “They’ll be here in about twenty minutes. We’ll remove the pack when they get here and Oin will check your shoulder.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Bilbo protested. “It’ll be fine in a couple days.”

Thorin sighed. “Bilbo, you _aren’t_ fine. You’re hurt. So stop being a stubborn pain in the arse and let us help you. You’re landlord’s right too: you’re not going to want to stay here if Bolg takes an interest in you.”

“I’m not leaving my apartment just because some gangsters are upset with my landlord!”

“If it were just that, I wouldn’t insist on it. You’ll be safer at one of my condos.”

“Thorin, I am capable of protecting myself!”

“They’re _mafia_!”

 “So are you!”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s true. What I _should_ have said is that my Family and Bolg’s have been at each other’s throats for generations…Bolg’s father, Azog, is the one who killed my grandfather. I was a kid then, still in high school. Fighting _Azog_ is what got me the name Oakenshield. After killing my grandfather, he tried to kill me when I was walking home from school with my little brother. They tried to shoot us down, but Frerin and I hid behind a dead oak tree.” Thorin closed his eyes, hands shaking. “I’ve been kidnapped before then, but no one tried to kill me before. I was trying to keep my little brother calm and I was scared and we were terrified and…I found a broken pipe and when the bullets stopped, I picked it up and rammed it into the car’s wheel, buying time for me and Frerin to run. We managed to get home all right…” He silenced.

Bilbo stared at him. “How…how old were you?”

“Fifteen. My brother was twelve.”

Bilbo’s voice caught in his throat. “Oh my God,” he whispered.

“They don’t care, Bilbo, if _that_ is what they’d do to kids…I’m afraid of what they’ll do if Bolg decides to target _you_. He’s just as horrible as his father… so _please_ , at least consider moving to one of my places? I’m not asking you to move in with me. I’ve about three different complexes around the city and right now, you need a place. There’s one closer to the school than this building and you can live there as long as you like.”

“I don’t know…”

“Just…for now think about it.”

Bilbo nodded lowering his gaze to his lap. Then he looked at Thorin again. “ _Fifteen_?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would they…”

“I don’t know,” Thorin said. “The Gundebad Family has always been…insane, I guess. Terrifyingly homicidal, deranged…take your pick. So maybe you can understand a little bit why I’m so nervous about you staying here now that Bolg’s aware of you?”

“A little bit…If it gets bad enough, then I’ll take up your offer, but for now, I’m content where I am.” Bilbo smiled. “Thank you.” Thorin blinked, studying him. “For coming to my rescue.” Thorin grinned.

“You’re welcome, my angel.” He leaned in to kiss Bilbo, but was cut off by the buzzer. Thorin froze, his smile shifting to a grimace.

“That was _not_ twenty minutes,” Bilbo said.

“No it was not. I’ll be right back.” He kissed Bilbo’s forehead and stood, leaving the room.

Bilbo leaned back.

 _Fifteen?!_ He still couldn’t believe it. Who would be so cruel as to shoot at a pair of children?! For what purpose at that?! Bilbo couldn’t fathom it.

Thorin returned with a pair of men. One was older with two hearing aids and silver hair. The other was a loud ginger, nearly shouting at Thorin with his boisterousness. The elder of the two approached Bilbo, introducing himself as Dr. Oin Borinsyn.

He pried the ice pack from Bilbo’s hands and peered at his shoulder, muttering to himself. “It’s a contusion,” he said. “It’ll heal on its own, but you’ll need to minimize movement in this arm for a while. Good thing Thorin told me to bring a sling for you, Laddie. Did you take some painkillers?”

“I had some Advil a few minutes ago,” he said.

“What?”

“ _Advil._ ”

“Oh, yeah. That’ll do it. Apply ice every hour or two for twenty minutes…what else…if it gets worse or swells abnormally, just come down to my clinic. I’d like to see you there on…Thursday, anyway, just to keep an eye on it…But come see me immediately if your arm starts feeling off: changing color, getting cold, numbness, or tingles. And we’ll have another appointment scheduled for you on Tuesday so we can get your arm moving around again. Gradually, of course.”

Bilbo nodded. Oin patted his good shoulder and helped Bilbo sling his arm. Thorin thanked Oin and bade them goodbye.

“Family physicians?”

“Just Oin,” Thorin said, sitting beside him. “Gloin’s our accountant, but Oin’s hearing’s not as good as it used to be. Doesn’t keep him from being one of the best doctors in Erebor.”

“Hence working for the Durins.”

Thorin grinned. “You’ve got us figured out, I see.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I doubt I’ll ever understand your family, Thorin. You, on the other hand, I look forward to knowing better.” Thorin beamed at him. Really, Thorin’s smile shouldn’t be so bright nor should his touch be so relaxing. But they were and Bilbo leaned into Thorin’s touch.

“I love you,” Thorin whispered, pressing his forehead to Bilbo’s. Bilbo felt his heart sink. It was too soon for him to say those words and he felt horrible for being unable to tell Thorin the same.

“I know,” he said. “But I…”

Thorin pressed a finger to Bilbo’s lips. “I know you can’t say the same yet,” he said. “I’m okay with that. That you’re giving me a chance is more than I hoped after we met.”

Bilbo nodded. “It’s almost noon.”

“I noticed.”

“Would you like to stay for lunch?”

“Only if we’re ordering something,” Thorin said. “You’re not cooking with a shoulder contusion.” Bilbo glared at him. Thorin arched a brow and Bilbo sighed.

“Fine. But _I’m_ paying this time.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“ _Thorin_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info about shoulder contusions and how to treat them: http://www.uofmmedicalcenter.org/healthlibrary/Article/512070EN


	8. Chapter 8

The next two weeks are strenuous from the onslaught of verbal attack from around the neighborhood Bilbo lives in.

Kili insisted that he ride with him and his brother to school and home when some of the students who have allied themselves with Gundebad started acting out toward Bilbo on campus.

Balin took care of those students, but it didn’t make it any safer.

When he asked, Bilbo told Kili that he interfered with Bolg beating his landlord half dead on the way home from the grocery store.

He decided it’d be wiser to not let Kili know that Bilbo was dating his uncle.

At least not yet.

“That would do it,” he groaned. “I can talk to my uncle about getting you a new place. It’s too dangerous for you there right now.”

“So I’ve been told,” Bilbo said. “I’ll think about it. And thanks.”

Kili beamed. “You’re welcome, Mr. Boggins.”

 _Some things are never going to change_ , Bilbo thought.

The Sunday after his injury, Bilbo was grading papers, groaning and wincing at each misinformation, grammar error, and spelling error he came across. Really, were these truly high school students he dealt with? Sometimes he wondered how they survived elementary school and those were on his good days.

A knock interrupted him. He wasn’t expecting anyone to come by.

Thorin said he might come by later today, but that was ten minutes ago after Bilbo had finished lunch. He approached the door and opened it.

Sméagol stood before him, head bowed and wringing his hands. “I’m sorry, Baggins. They-they wouldn’t…”

Bilbo looked at Bolg and his two henchmen flanking either side of him standing behind Sméagol.

“I am really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bilbo told him. He leaned closer. “Call Thorin for me,” he whispered.

Sméagol left, heading back to his office.

Bilbo stepped aside. “Come in,” he said. Bolg entered with his men. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Water? Juice? I don’t really have much…”

“Sit,” Bolg demanded.

Bilbo glared at him, jaw clenched tight.

“This is my home,” he snarled. “You have no right to command me to do anything, especially after I’ve let you in.” Bolg met his glare.

“So he doesn’t keep you around because you’re an obedient dog, then,” he said, sitting on the couch.

Bilbo kept standing, fists clenched at his sides and reining in his desire to punch Bolg’s nose in. Couldn’t make him much uglier, really.

“So why _does_ Oakenshield keep you around?” he asked. “You’re a new teacher here in Erebor, which offered your first fulltime teaching job. You don’t really do much, though lately, you _have_ been spending a rather interestingly large chunk of time either with Thorin or his nephews outside of school, especially Kili. But then again, he’s one of your students, though, of course, not for much longer.”

Bolg’s smirk made Bilbo’s skin crawl. He was half a beat ready to throw his arrogant son of a bitch out of his flat. Bolg crossed his legs.

“So what is it? The uncle or the nephew? Both make moon eyes at you.”

“I’ll admit to dating Thorin,” Bilbo said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve already guessed that, so why deny it? But Kili is just my student and I don’t like you assuming there’s more between me and him than that. If you’re just going to insult me and belt out baseless accusations, then I insist you leave.”

Bolg arched his eyebrow, frowning at Bilbo.

One of his men had been circling around, seeming to do nothing but explore. Now he stood beside Bilbo and grabbed his injured shoulder, twisting it behind him.

Bilbo screamed, forced to his knees. The pain was sharp like needles. Bolg stood and squatted in front of him, pinching Bilbo’s cheeks and forcing him to look up.

“Bark all you like, Bitch, that’s about all your good for, it seems,” he taunted, “Durin’s not training you hard enough.” The man twisted his arm again and Bilbo gasped, screwing his eyes shut to dam the tears and bit his lip to keep from whimpering. Bolg stood. “Still, bad dogs need to be punished.”

Bilbo’s heart jolted. He was pulled to his feet and slammed against the table, papers flew off, and a knife pressed against his cheek, the tip scratching against the skin. His heart beat erratically. His breathing was short and labored.

“So let’s try this again: how many of the Durins are you fucking?”

“Just one,” Bilbo said. _Please make it stop! It hurts! I don’t want to die! Please somebody!_ The knife pressed into his skin and He winced at the cut

“That’s good for now,” Bolg said. He pulled a chair out and sat down. “My boy here’s good at skinning things. Did you know, it’s more fun when the things are alive?”

_Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!!_

“So is it _really_ just Oakenshield who’s boning you?”

“Yes. I swear it. _I swear it_.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Kili has a crush on me, that’s all! It’s been getting bad for me here, so he offered to drive me to school, him and his brother, I swear…”

The door broke down. The man pinning him down started, releasing Bilbo’s arm.

“BILBO, GET DOWN!!!”

Bilbo dove under the table.

He covered his head with his arms, trying to block out the gunfire.

Glass smashed and curses were screamed and sirens echoed in the distance.

Two arms fished him from under the table and he gasped, trying to get away.

“Bilbo, Bilbo, _shh_ , it’s okay, Angel,” Thorin said.

Bilbo blinked, breathing heavily. His entire body trembled. He didn’t know how to stop.

Thorin pulled him into his arms, petting his hair and kissing his temple, whispering _you’re safe. They’re gone. You’re okay. I got you…_

Bilbo shied away from any touch to his shoulder.

“Dwalin, get the sling. Come on, Bilbo, stand up,” Thorin helped him to his feet, an arm wrapped around his waist. “Nori, call Oin.”

“I, um, thanks,” Bilbo said, hating how much his voice trembled. “I think I’ll, um, take up that offer to stay at one of your places. The one closest to the school. Remember?”

“I remember,” Thorin said, helping him outside and to his car. “I’ll have a place made ready for you and have some men come by to clear this place out for you.”

“Where are we going?”

“Oin’s clinic.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Is he all right?” Dwalin asked.

“I’m okay,” Bilbo said. “Considering they were going to skin me, I’m o…oh God.” The last thing he knew, the colors blurred, and then everything went black.

#

He woke staring at a white wall. He tried to sit up, but his shoulder stung and he resigned to just laying in bed. His cheek throbbed and he raised his good arm to it, touching the bandage, blinking.

Bilbo decided to make Sméagol a cake the next time he saw his landlord. Old landlord? Either way, he owed him.

He heard the click of a lock turning and turned to an open door. Thorin stood there. He set his coat down on a chair and approached.

“Bilbo,” he sighed, sitting on the bed and taking Bilbo’s hand. “You’re awake.”

“Yep, I am. What happened?”

“You’re fainted outside your flat.”

“How long ago?”

“An hour,” Thorin said. “Oin will be in soon to look at you…in the meantime,” he stood and helped Bilbo sit up. “You shouldn’t sleep. Or nap.”

“I doubt I’m concussed.”

“I’d rather we be sure,” Thorin said. “Apart from the obvious, why did Bolg attack you?”

Bilbo swallowed. “Kili and Fili had been giving me rides to school…Kili has a bit of a crush on me, to be honest and I saw nothing wrong with taking up the offer. Balin is aware of this, so…”

“He didn’t believe you?”

“He thought…he thought I was abusing my position as a teacher to get close to them. I guess. I don’t know for sure.”

Thorin kissed his hand. “Thank god you’re landlord called me.”

“I know. You think he likes shortcake?”

“ _Bilbo_ ,” Thorin growled. Bilbo blinked. “This isn’t something to joke about.”

“I know. I was genuine about that.”

Thorin sighed. “One of my flats is being prepared for you. It’s close to the school, there’s a grocery store nearby and a bus stop that come by the clinic here. You should be able to leave in a couple days. And, don’t argue, I assigned one of my boys to guard you.” Bilbo scowled. “He’s not intimidating and he’s quiet. You’ll hardly notice he’s there.”

“Thorin, I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“I say you do and I’m not risking it again.”

“Is there security at this flat I’m being moved to?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Security isn’t good enough!” Thorin shouted.

Bilbo started, sinking back into the mattress.

Thorin closed his eyes and sighed. “Just let him do his job, Bilbo. Please? I can’t be there twenty-four seven to make sure you’re safe. This is the most I can do to make sure you don’t get hurt again. Please.”

“Fine. I don’t like it, but fine.”

Thorin kissed his forehead. “Thank you, Angel,” he whispered.

“He better at least be interesting.”

“Maybe I should switch him out for someone less interesting, then,” Thorin mused, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s lips. “Can’t have you run off with one of my men because he’s more interesting than I am.”

Bilbo glared at him. “Give me some credit,” he snapped.

“I was teasing,” Thorin assured him. “You’ll like him. Trust me.” He stood. “I’ll get Oin.” He kissed Bilbo again and left.

Once the door had closed, Bilbo raised his hand to his shoulder. When untouched, it ached. When touched, if felt like his nerves had become thin needle slivers pushing through his muscles like fabric. He whimpered, lowering his hand.

The door opened and Oin entered with Thorin, who sat in the chair while Oin carefully examined Bilbo’s shoulder. He winced, focusing on his breathing, rather than the pain.

“Did you take some ibuprofen yet?” Oin asked.

Bilbo shook his head.

Oin hummed. “We’ll get some for you after this. Bear with it laddie…we’ll get a compression bandage to help with the swelling. And use that sling.”

“I _was_.”

“Well, your recovery’s been set back, so you’ll have to go back to it. And avoid any strenuous physical activity.” Oin left the room after Bilbo’s confirmation.

He doubted walking was going to really affect his shoulder much. He made a mental note to ask Balin for a TA. As much as he hated it, with his injury being what it was, he was _never_ going to get his students’ homework graded at this rate.

Oin returned with a nurse and a paper cup with two brown pills, a paper cup of water, and an ice pack. She gave him the pills and ice pack before leaving. Oin examined Bilbo, asking him about his memory, if how his head felt, if he felt dizzy or nauseas, and several other questions while checking his motor skills, and light sensitivity.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like you’re concussed,” he said. “Did you hit your head at any time?”

“On the table,” Bilbo said, “When Bolg’s men pinned me to it, but that’s it and I feel fine.”

“You fainted.”

“The threatened to skin me,” Bilbo said. “Fainting is well within the realm of a reasonable reaction.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Oin said. “So do not to sleep for about twenty four hours. I’ll be back with that shoulder compress. You can take the ice pack off in a minute or two.”

He left again and Bilbo leaned back, sighing.

“You okay?” Thorin asked.

“Considering I kind of wish my arm was numb instead of having to deal with this pain, I’m good,” Bilbo said. “Not that it being numb would be any better, but at least it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“Do you regret helping your landlord?” Thorin asked.

“No,” Bilbo said. “Why would I? Someone had to stop it.”

“Bilbo, Gundebad or not, it’s not smart to get between a business meeting like that. _Yes_ ,” he said, holding his hand up to stop the protests on the tip of Bilbo’s tongue. “That was what we call a business meeting. He does business with them, pays them a rent, got behind, they went to talk about it. Sometimes these meetings get bloody. This one did. No one in their right mind steps between these things and gets out unscathed.”

“So if it was you beating him and we didn’t know each other?”

“I don’t know, if I didn’t love you so much or fall in love with you as quickly as I did, it is most likely…” Thorin bit his lip. He sighed. “It’s likely you would be dead. You were lucky I was there. They’d have beaten you half-dead that day if I wasn’t. Though, I think it also made things harder for you.”

“Not your fault,” Bilbo said. “They don’t _have_ to do anything to me. I’ve done nothing to them. They just don’t like who I decided to associate with, willingly or unwillingly. But yeah, this,” Bilbo scanned the room, “is what I was afraid of. And cement boots.”

“Cement boots are too cliché,” Thorin said, grinning. “We don’t do those anymore.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Well that’s one thing less to worry about then.”

“They wouldn’t look good on you anyway.”

“Bite me,” Bilbo snapped.

“Maybe later,” Thorin said.

Bilbo scowled, earning an amused chuckle. “Do you _really_ need to have the last word?”

“Usually I do,” Thorin said. “Whether I want it or not.” He laughed as Bilbo’s scowl deepened. Thorin stood and moved to the bed, kissing him, his hand, cupping Bilbo’s face. “I love you, and I have a little more fun than is allowable teasing you when you let me.”

“So I should expect more teasing in the future?”

“Lots more.” He pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s. “I’ll be back with food that’s actually good. None of this hospital crap.”

“That’s generous.”

“Only the best for my angel.” He left and Bilbo sighed. Wishing there was something to do. He should have asked Thorin to get him a book or to hand him the remote to the telly.

_If I didn’t love you so much or fall in love with you as quickly as I did, it’s likely you would be dead…_

Bilbo bit his lip, his mirth dying as those words sank into his brain. It wasn’t hard for him to imagine Thorin as a killer, but what kind of killer he was…Bilbo couldn’t say.

He didn’t seem to be the kind who took amusement from hurting people, so maybe to him it was more like…perhaps “no hard feelings, it’s just business” kind of thing. It wasn’t any better, but somehow seemed a little more comforting.

He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t think about it,” he whispered. “Don’t think about it.”

If he did, he’d lose whatever resolve he managed to procure. He didn’t know Thorin as a killer, even if he was aware that he most likely was.

The Thorin presented to him was dangerous, yes—he brought a _gun_ on their last date! Who does that?! Apparently a Mafioso—but he was also sweet, clingy, a tad bit obsessive, and awkwardly romantic.

He could—would need to—overlook Thorin’s dark side.

If he didn’t, he would probably have to find a way to escape this relationship with Thorin before it escalated to something Bilbo wasn’t comfortable with. A part of him thought he should. He was already attacked because of his relationship with Thorin.

He didn’t doubt that Thorin was doing what he could to protect Bilbo and he did appreciate it…

Bilbo shook his head, hiding his face in his good hand, legs pulled up to his chin. “Bilbo, calm down. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.”

_But what if it wasn’t? What if all this was a mistake and there was no way to rectify it without running away?_

He groaned, certain his dizziness and nausea had nothing to do with being possibly concussed.

#

Bilbo’s old flat had been small with linoleum flooring in the kitchen and brown, seventy’s style carpets.

His tan couch had fit in nicely as did the brown tables he had inherited from his parents. Most of the stainless steel kitchen appliances he had were also part of his inheritance.

The lighting there would cast a bronze glow and half the light he did have came from his windows rather than the artificial ones. The laundry would be done at a Laundromat down the street.

But the new flat was twice the size of the old one.The lighting was reliably bright. The floors were entirely dark hickory hardwood as were most of the cabinets in the kitchen, paired with granite countertops. The faucets in both the kitchen and bathroom were stainless steel.

Bilbo’s furniture, thankfully worked well.

The only thing that wasn’t his was a forest green rug placed under his coffee table. (Thorin told him to think of it as a housewarming gift. Bilbo reminded him that this was likely a temporary arrangement.)

It also had its own clothing washer and dryer tucked away in a corner of the flat. Bilbo decided it would be _that_ he’d miss the most when it came time to move back to his old flat or find a new one that was in his budget.

Bilbo opened the curtains, looking out the window. He could see cars driving by, pinpoint different restaurants, and the school. It wasn’t a great view, but it would do. From what he was told, this was one of Thorin’s cheaper building complexes.

Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s waist, pulling him into a hug and laying his chin on Bilbo’s good shoulder. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” Bilbo said. “It’s probably too far out of my pay grade, but otherwise, I do like it.”

“Good,” Thorin said. “I thought you’d be harder to please. I almost looked forward to a challenge.”

“Well, it’s not my style, but neither was my other flat. So long as I’ve a roof over my head, I can’t really complain, and the furniture that can be moved. They probably will be.”

“You could have more,” Thorin said. “I wouldn’t mind buying you another bookshelf. Or a new telly.”

“I don’t _need_ you to buy me anything,” Bilbo sighed. “I’d like to keep _some_ semblance of independence, thank you very much.” Thorin kissed his jaw, the beard scratching like a cat’s tongue against his cheek.

“I’ll have to find different ways of showing how much I love you, then.”

“Well, if you can cook…”

“Then I’d risk burning the whole building down. And if I somehow manage _not_ to, I’m afraid you’ll be poisoned.” Bilbo laughed. Thorin shook his head. “I’ll spare you that and come up with something else.”

“Good,” Bilbo said, turning to kiss him. “You have such an odd sense of humor.”

“It’s a bit on the dark side for normal people. My brother and sister can be quite disturbing.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Bilbo said pulling out of Thorin’s embrace to fetch the ice pack for his shoulder. Thorin followed, leaning on the counter as Bilbo grabbed the bag and placed it on his shoulder.

“When’s your spring break?”

“Same as Kili’s.”

“Which means that my sister would know, not me,” Thorin says.

Bilbo turned to him frowning. “Why?”

“Well,” Thorin grinned, “How else am I going to plan a surprise?”

“What? No. _No_ , Thorin.”

“Why not? You’re stressed. I think a week outside of Erebor would be appropriate, don’t you think?”

“Well…yes, I would like that, but don’t you think you’ve spent a lot already on me?”

“It’s my money, so why shouldn’t I spend it trying to make my lover happy?”

“Didn’t we just talk about how you should find _other_ ways to show your love for me?”

“I know, but I think getting out of Erebor for few days would do that. Plus, it means you won’t have to be tailed by Nori so often.”

Bilbo actually liked Nori. He was funny.

Of course, Nori was also annoyed with Bilbo for setting his little brother up with Dwalin. He didn’t like Dwalin’s crush on Ori. He didn’t like Dwalin and Dwalin didn’t like him. High school rivalries rarely subsided in Erebor. Other than that, they got along better than Bilbo expected. They spent a lot of time playing darts together, especially since Nori couldn’t really cheat at that as easily as he did cards.

Bilbo learned that he had a rather good aim, but it wasn’t as trained as Nori’s eye. As to what he really did for the Durins, Nori wouldn’t say nor hinted at. Bilbo decided he was better off not knowing.

“Nori’s not that bad,” Bilbo said.

Thorin glared. He hadn’t taken to their new friendship easily and nearly replaced Nori. He would have too if Bilbo hadn’t smacked his head for bringing it up. (That had left Bilbo in a slightly panicked state at night, wondering what possessed him to hit Thorin.)

Bilbo sighed. “Fine, spring break begins after school this Friday.” Thorin’s eyes bugged and he pulled out his phone.  Bilbo narrowed his eyes. “Where are we going?”

Thorin smiled brightly in a way that made Bilbo’s knees feel a little weak. “All I’m saying is you better pack a swimsuit or two,” he said.

Bilbo perked up. _The beach? Swimsuit? Sunny? Please be sunny!_ “Thorin, really, where are we going?”

“Not telling.”

“Thorin, _where_ are we going?” Bilbo demanded. Thorin drew his fingers across his lips, smirking.

“Worry about resting your shoulder.”

“But _Thorin_!”

“I’m not saying nothing.”

Bilbo groaned, wincing. “You wound me. _Why_ did you use a double negative?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward discussion of kinks and selecting sex toys in this chapter. Be warned. Lots of smut to come.

“Any plans for the break?”

Bilbo glanced up at Kili’s expectant face. His bright grin was laced with hope.

“Actually,” Bilbo began.

He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong befriending Kili until it hit him that he might be fueling false hope in him. Bilbo didn’t want to hurt Kili, yet he feared he may have gone too far already.

Sadly, it had to be said.

“I do. My boyfriend and I are leaving for the week.”And, _oh_ , Kili _had_ to give him that kicked puppy look.

“You have a boyfriend?”

“We got together quite recently,” Bilbo explained.

“Same guy from that date you mentioned a few weeks back?”

“Yes.”

Kili sighed dramatically. “Well, I was _hoping_ you’d like to stay at my place for a while—”

“And I’d have to refuse anyway. I’m still your teacher, Kili Durin,” Bilbo said, crossing his arms as best he could with one arm in a sling.

“I suppose that’s true. But you still like going to get coffee with me…wait, are you staying with your boyfriend right now? Is that why you said Fili and I don’t need to pick you up anymore?”

“Yes,” Bilbo picked up the pile of essays in front of him. “Don’t think I’m not grateful for that, because I _really_ am, but there’s a line we can’t cross, Kili, and I had thought I made that clear.”

“I know, and you did. I’m not expecting you to go out with me until _after_ graduation.” Kili grinned again.

Bilbo decided that Kili’s ability to bounce back was something to admire, if nothing else.

“So your boyfriend better be ready for when I’m not your student anymore.”

 _Oh dear_.

Kili jumped off his desk, grabbing his backpack and stringing his arms through the straps. “Have a good break, Mr. Boggins.”

“Are you _ever_ going to call me by my name? I’m quite sure that calling your crush by something that’s _not_ their name nor approved by them does _not_ help you win them over.”

“Well, I’d call you ‘Bilbo’ but you get snippy with me when I do.” Kili raced out of the room before Bilbo could yell at him about respect and propriety.

Bilbo stuffed the papers in his briefcase as best he could. _That went better than I thought it would._

He found Kili hiding in one of the hallways when he should have been heading home, back turned away from the main hall.

Bilbo walked by, wishing it wasn’t _him_ Kili liked and wishing he could help him. As it was, Bilbo was certain he would only be able to do more harm than good right now.

Besides, Oscar Wilde once said, _the heart was made to be broken_. Kili would only become stronger and that, Bilbo decided, was a very comforting thought.

#

“So, where are we going?” Bilbo asked, grinning at Thorin.

Thorin handed him a can of coca-cola, sitting beside him in the jet.

“All you told me was to bring a swimsuit, so that tells me warm, but beyond that, you’ve said _nothing_.”

“And I will continue to say nothing,” Thorin said, wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders.

“I don’t like surprises that much, so _please_ tell me. At least tell me which country we’re going to.”

Thorin kissed his cheek. “Spain.”

“Madrid? No, that’s too far in the mainland…Barcelona? Granada? Seville?” Thorin shook his head, laughing. “For God’s sake, man, tell me!”

“ _No_ ,” Thorin said, drawing out the “no” with a little stress as though it was unarguable. Bilbo glared at him. “We’re nearly halfway there, I’m sure you can wait another hour to find out.”

Bilbo disagreed. He hated not knowing and he really didn’t like surprises. Thorin seemed to be getting off on making him antsy if Bilbo had anything to say about it.

Thorin squeezed his shoulder. “You will like it, Angel, I promise. Fine. One more hint: we’re staying on one of the Balearic Islands.” Bilbo pulled out his phone, checking a virtual map of Spain.

Thorin pulled his phone out.

“I _will_ figure it out, Thorin.  Give me my phone back.”

“No, you’ve already had enough hints.”

“You’re a child! Give me my phone back.”

“ _I’m_ a child?” Thorin exclaimed, laughing. “I’m not the one all but bouncing on his seat.”

“I’m _agitated_ and I would _like_ to know where it is we’re going!”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Bilbo scowled, earning another laugh from Thorin, who kissed his cheek again.

“Just trust me, you will like where we’re going. I wouldn’t take you somewhere dangerous, angel.”

Bilbo wasn’t entirely convinced. There never seemed to be such a thing as a place that was “not dangerous.” But given who he was with, he guessed that he was perhaps safer here than anywhere. Or in the most danger than he’d ever be in his life.

“This isn’t over,” Bilbo assured him. “I _will_ find out where it is we are going. My phone please.” He held his hand out and Thorin returned his phone.

“You will have fun, promise,” Thorin said, his nails gently scratching Bilbo through the fabric of his shirt. “If you don’t, then you can…do whatever you want to next time.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll have fun,” Bilbo said. “I managed to have fun with you, while in Erebor, after all, and for a very industrial city, it doesn’t have much in it. I just want to know where we’re going so I don’t make any mistakes when asking where the bathroom is.”

“ _Dondé esta el baño_ will do.”

Bilbo snorted. “I suppose it will.”

“Or _on és el lavabo_ in Catalan,” Thorin added.

Bilbo stared at him. “Are you bilingual?”

 “I have to talk to other organizations, so…” Thorin held up a hand. “I know Spanish and Catalan, Italian, German, and Japanese. And English. But I’m only fluent in English, Italian, and Japanese since my family often has business meetings with the Italian Mafia and the Japanese Yakuza. Well, also the Irish Mafia, but that’s English. Everything else is conversational at best.”

_Six languages!_

Bilbo slumped in his seat. The best he could say was that he could read bits and pieces of Old English from Beowulf and Middle English in Chaucer’s works.

Hardly counted.

#

When they stepped out of Ibiza’s airport, Bilbo had to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight bearing down on the streets and sidewalks.

They didn’t have to wait long for a limousine to arrive to take them to their hotel but Bilbo was already sweating down his neck (to his chagrin) and Thorin had tied his hair back. He let Thorin talk to their driver while he entered the blissfully cold car. Thorin joined him a couple minutes later.

“Not a fan of the heat?”

“I won’t mind it so much when the sun sets,” Bilbo said. Thorin handed him an opened water bottle. Bilbo thanked him, taking a swig from it. “But the heat will be the only thing I’ll really complain about.”

Thorin grinned. “Sadly I can’t do anything about the weather.”

“I know, Love.”

#

The Hotel Mirador de Dalt Vila was bigger than Bilbo expected it to be as Thorin led them to an elevator and up to the fifteenth floor and down the hall to the right and stopping at room 1521. He followed Thorin inside and as the door closed behind him, his eyes bugged.

The ceiling and walls were white. Pressed to the right wall was a black leather couch and across from it was a plasma screen television.

Down the hall was a glass door leading to a balcony or terrace. The hardwood floor was covered in white and tan rugs. In the center of the room was a glass coffee table.

Beside the couch was a liquor cabinet. On the left was a desk and phone. Closer to the glass door was a cherry wood table and matching chairs.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “Thorin, a normal room would have been good enough.”

“And pass up the Jacuzzi?”

“ _Jacuzzi_?”

“Outside,” Thorin said, pulling him toward the glass door and opening it, letting the heat hit Bilbo like a tidal wave. True to his word, in the center of the patio was a Jacuzzi surrounded by beach chairs and other outdoor furniture.

“Like it?”

“Why the hell did you get a room like this? It must have cost a fortune!”

“Bilbo, I wore a Brioni suit to Ram a few weeks ago because it was partially who I was and mostly because I was trying to impress you.”

“You look better in jeans and polo tees.”

“And I almost changed my entire wardrobe because of that. _However_ , this is a hotel room and it’s supposed to be a romantic getaway. Accept it, Mr. Baggins, I’m going to spoil you rotten,” Thorin said, smirking at him. “It also has two bathrooms…well, technically, a bathroom and a private gym.”

“I don’t see how the private gym is necessary,” Bilbo said.

Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s hips and pulled him closer until Bilbo placed his hands on Thorin’s shoulders.

“It’s more for me, but you’re more than welcome to use it, too,” he said, pressing his lips to Bilbo’s. “If you like, though I’d be sad if you lose your softness.”

Bilbo harrumphed. “I’m _not_ soft. Maybe compared to you, but I’m not soft.”

“I’m just teasing, Angel,” Thorin said, kissing him again. Bilbo nipped his bottom lip in retaliation, prying Thorin’s hands off.

“I’m going to put my things in the bedroom and then perhaps we can get something to eat nearby.”

Thorin hummed, agreeing to that plan.

As Bilbo unpacked, Thorin decided it would be amusing to grope his ass, only to run from Bilbo’s indignant sputtering, laughing loudly, at the other end of the bed, opening his backpack.

His grin died and his cheeks tinted. “God damn it, Frerin,” he muttered.

“What?”

Thorin gasped closing the bag. “Nothing! Just my brother decided to pack a few things I don’t think we really need.” Bilbo narrowed his eyes. “Really, Bilbo, it’s nothing.”

“Okay,” Bilbo said, turning back to his own things before lunging at the bag and ripping it from Thorin’s hands. He peered inside.

“Your… _brother_ packed this stuff?”

“Yeah,” Thorin said.

“That’s not a funny joke, Thorin.”

“It’s _not_ a joke!”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes and Thorin scratched the back of his head, grimacing. He believed him, but only because he was blushing too brightly and avoided Bilbo’s eyes and all around _far_ too flustered to be pretending.

He picked up a pair of fuzzy leopard print handcuffs. It was one of the less…risqué items in the bag.

“I swear I had already packed the bag last night before…he must have…I don’t know.”

Bilbo thumbed around the items: lube, prostate massagers, massage kit, cock rings, more restraints, a ball gag (which will never be used if Bilbo had any say, and he was quite certain he did)…

“Your brother’s into BDSM, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Bilbo found a slip of paper and pulled it out, opening it. Thorin walked around to read over his shoulder.

 _You’re lucky you even got past the first date,_ it read. _So here are some love aids for you and your new partner. None of its mine (as if I’d give it to you), so you and your partner have fun. One last thing: we never talk about this (though I will be asking how it went. Dis and I both want details.)—Frerin_

“As if I’d _want_ his crap,” Thorin muttered. Bilbo turned spied another slip behind it. The script was different. “This is embarrassing enough.”

_I tried to stop him. We were only going to get the massage kit and lube for you. –Dis_

“Well, at least you know who to blame.”

“They’re both nosy,” Thorin growled, plucking the notes out of Bilbo’s hand and tearing them apart. “Do you have siblings?”

“Nope, but I’ve about enough cousins to fit in a big yacht, I guess we could say,” Bilbo said. Thorin blinked at him. “My mother was one of twelve and my dad was the oldest of five.”

“I barely survived with _two_ ,” Thorin said, shaking his head.

“Well, we may as well use _some_ of them if you’re comfortable with that,” Bilbo said, smirking salaciously.

Thorin stared at him and returned the smirk. Bilbo abandoned the bag and rose on his toes to kiss him.

“Later, though.”

“Well, it’s something to look forward to,” Thorin said, the baritone of his voice dropping to a growl. Bilbo pushed him back gently.

“Let’s go eat and since you’re the one who multi-lingual, I trust you to order something that’s actually edible and recognizable.”

“Fine. Any allergies I should be aware of?” he asked.

“Peanuts. Everything else is fine and I’m not picky.”

#

The walk from the hotel to _La Oliva Restaurante_ left Bilbo wishing he brought a handkerchief to mop the sweat trickling down his neck. At least he had the sense to wear shorts and a tee.

Thorin had again tied his hair back and his neck was just as shiny, if not more, than Bilbo’s and he had not changed out of his dark jeans and tennis shoes though wisely left his jacket at the hotel.

He took his hair out of its ponytail and rebound into a loose bun and when that didn’t help much, his dark scowl just made Bilbo laugh and suggest he cut his hair.

Thorin did not take kindly to that. Long hair, beards, and various hair and body-art were part of how a Durin Mafioso was recognized.

Bilbo didn’t see how that was in any way sensible. But he had joked that Thorin should have someone put micro braids in his hair, earning a deeper scowl than before and a very offended “no.”

Bilbo laughed harder at Thorin’s expense and kissed his cheek, still grinning.

They received a table outside, shaded—to Bilbo’s relief—and probably right next to the kitchen inside if the smells assaulting Bilbo’s nose were anything to go by.

While the waited for their server, Thorin showed him a map of Ibiza, suggesting different places to visit: Ibiza castle, _Porto di Ibiza_ , Formentera, “Atlantis.”

(“It’s actually called _Sa Pedrera_ ,” Thorin explained, “Not the real Atlantis, but so many people visit it for its historical and cultural significance. Many have carved their mark into the rocks over the centuries…”

“We’re definitely going!”)

And that was not including the different beaches they could visit.

Bilbo asked after any museums, art or otherwise. Thorin pointed out the _Museo Arqueológico de Ibiza_ near their hotel and the _Puig des Molins_ which he identified as a history meuseum.

They ordered their food (duck confit with garlic mashed potatoes and a chicken breast with spinach, mushrooms, and parmiggiano), agreeing to plan _when_ they would visit the attractions they agreed on back at the hotel.

It was nearly two hours later when they returned to Mirador and both fled to take a shower if just to wash off the accumulated sweat.

While he waited for Thorin (another thing to argue against long hair: it needed more attention than it would if it was short. Not that Bilbo could really complain. Curly hair could be just as tedious), he pulled out the various different sex toys Thorin’s brother decided to shove on them.

The ball gag, as Bilbo already decided, was going in the trash. But he could find use for the other things available if Thorin preferred any of them.

That they were gifted to them from his _brother_ was something Bilbo would rather not have known. That easily kills a man’s libido and that was a shame as some of the items Frerin sent them were quite interesting.

For sure the lube was a blessing and the massage oils would be great…

Bilbo gripped his injured shoulder, adjusting the ice pack. They would have to find a way around his injury. He didn’t want to aggravate it and that would mean certain positions would…not be doable.

The bed dipped on the other side, and Bilbo glanced at Thorin.

His mouth went dry.

Thorin had changed into shorts and a cream button up shirt which he left open.

Bilbo swallowed and let his eyes roam the expanse of Thorin’s chest, a dusting of chest hair covered scars and trailed in a thin line down his abdomen, disappearing into the seam of his shorts.

“No to the gag,” he said.

“Agreed. And you’re wearing the restraints if we use them.”

“Why me?” Bilbo arched a brow and Thorin glanced at Bilbo’s shoulder. “Oh. Right.” He picked up a box of edible underwear and shook his head. “These are too small for both of us.”

Bilbo groaned. “That’s a pity,” he said, setting it beside the gag. “I had been looking forward to that. But at least we have edible condoms.”

Thorin furrowed his brow. “Where?” Bilbo picked up the black box with a picture rose and that read _Kandie Kondoms._ “Ah. You know what I’m going to pretend _you_ bought these.”

“They weren’t in _my_ bag.”

“Ninja skills…”

Bilbo shook his head. “Really?”

“I spend too much time with my nephews.”

He picked up a link of cock rings. “This’ll be interesting,” he said.

Bilbo’s eyebrows rose, examining it from where he sat. Five metal rings were attached to a leather strap. A picture on the back showed that the largest ring went behind the bollocks. The item was aptly named “5 Gates of Hell.”

“I prefer the leather one,” Bilbo said, picking it up. “Though the three piece isn’t bad.”

“What the _hell_ ,” Thorin said, dropping the Gates of Hell for the hogtie set. Bilbo laughed, lying on his back. “See, this is why I’m saying _you_ bought these. I’d _never_ get this!”

“You’d not get a hog tie set, but you _would_ get the Gates of Hell?”

“Shut up.”

“But I wouldn’t either! Oh, how considerate,” he said, beaming. “An under-the-bed restraint—”

“ _How_ the _hell_ did Frerin manage to get this stuff in my bag without me noticing?!”

“Don’t ask me!” Bilbo laughed. “He’s _your_ brother!”

“Don’t remind me.”

Bilbo lay on his good side, laughing. Tears trickled down his cheeks and his face hurt from laughing too hard. He eased back up drying his eyes on the back of his hand.

“Okay, so no hog tie, underwear, or ball gag. Anything else?”

Thorin shook his head. “The rest of its fine with me unless there’s something else you want to toss.”

“No, I’m good,” Bilbo said, adding the hog tie kit to the trash pile. “How are we going to get rid of this stuff discretely though?”

“We don’t have to if you’re okay with traumatizing the staff.” Bilbo shrugged. “Let’s traumatize the staff,” Thorin said, taking the items and dumping it on the bathroom garbage bin. He jumped back on the bed. “Well, that was fun.”

“Actually it was,” Bilbo said, grinning. “While we’re talking about it…any kinks you like?”

“Why?” Thorin arched a brow. “What are yours? Not including your desire to tie me to the bed.”

Bilbo blushed. “Well, yeah, there’s that, I guess,” he said. “But I’d hardly call that a kink. I’m afraid I’m rather vanilla. Though,” he waved his hand at the toys. “I’ve nothing against any of those. Until recently, I was a single, young gay man. I have needs. _Don’t_ smirk like that! It’s perfectly normal!”

“I know, but the thought of you getting off is a _very_ pleasing image.” Bilbo swatted Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin grabbed his wrist and kissed his fingers. “And I’m rather vanilla too.”

“What, no sex-torture dungeon?” Bilbo teased.

“Not my thing,” Thorin said, smirking back. “So…”

“We’re quite boring.”

“Not necessarily. There’s the Jacuzzi.”

Bilbo grinned. “Bath sex without the need to clean up the bathroom. Brilliant. So, are you a top, a bottom, or versatile?”

“Versatile but partial to topping. You?”

“Also versatile,” Bilbo said. “And not partial to either.”

Thorin hummed, laying on his side and smirking. “Anything else I should know?” Bilbo shook his head.

“Not that I can think of,” Bilbo said, standing. “Let’s get this stuff off the bed and in your bag or something. At least until we decide to use them.”

Once the toys were put away, Thorin pulled Bilbo into his lap and pushed his hair back, kissing his neck and nipping the skin. He wrapped his hands around Bilbo’s waist and moved his lips to the curve where neck met shoulder.

Bilbo placed his hands above Thorin’s, gently gripping his wrists but made no indication of wanting to move them.

Thorin pressed kisses back up Bilbo’s neck and gently bit his earlobe. Bilbo gasped, a shock going down to his groin. Thorin paused and tentatively nibbled the lobe again. Bilbo moaned.

 _Why’d he have to discover that so quickly!_ Bilbo lamented as his groin responded and his breathing labored.

Thorin smirked against his ear, licking the curve of Bilbo’s ears, and gently taking the tip in his mouth and sucking. Bilbo wiggled in Thorin’s lap. Thorin pressed kisses against Bilbo’s ear, bucking his hips against Bilbo’s rear.

Bilbo broke away and turned to kiss Thorin’s puppy eyes away.

“Someone promised me bath sex in a Jacuzzi, I think,” he murmured before running out of the bedroom and into the bathroom for some towels.

He shoved them in Thorin’s hands and laughed at his bewildered expression before heading outside.

Bilbo stripped out of his shorts, t-shirt, and boxers, leaving them and the sling on one of the chairs before stepping into the Jacuzzi and slipping into the bliss, head cradled by the rim.

The sun was setting over the Mediterranean Sea, bathing the world in a warm, golden glow. The sky was a grey-blue with neon orange clouds drifting above them.

He closed his eyes, only aware of Thorin’s presence when the warm water sloshed around and two calloused hands grabbed his thighs, prying them apart so that Thorin could stand between them. Bilbo opened his eyes and pressed his lips to Thorin’s, hands tangling in long black hair.


	10. Chapter 10

“ _No_ ,” Bilbo said, guarding the book in his hands. “I’m not going swimming.”

“Aren’t you warm?” Thorin asked.

“I’ll live,” Bilbo huffed. “Besides, even if I wanted to go swimming, I’m not a strong swimmer and my shoulder’s still healing.”

Thorin pouted.

“Damn. Fine, I’ll be back with drinks. Margaritas. One virgin.”

Bilbo mock glared at him as he ran off then returned to his book, managing to read another few pages before Thorin returned, handing him a glass filled with a lime colored and half-frozen slush.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, taking the drink off Thorin’s hand. He coughed as the sharp, cool bite the drink had. “I think this one’s yours.”

“What?” Thorin took a sip from Bilbo’s, then another from his own. He swore. “Sorry, love,” he said. “Some people don’t know what ‘virgin’ means.” He took it. “I’ll be back.”

“Sorry…”

“This isn’t your fault, so don’t apologize.”

He ran off before Bilbo could say that wasn’t why he was apologizing. He turned back to the book, letting it distract him a little while longer while he waited for Thorin to return a second time.

A shadow blocked the sun and he looked up. Thorin handed him a bottle of cola instead.

“Got this instead,” he said. Bilbo took it, thanking him again. Thorin sighed, lying down beside him, sunglasses hiding his eyes and hands behind his head. “That was more trouble than it should’ve been.”

“No reason to get upset over a mistake, Thorin. Everyone makes them.”

“You’re too forgiving.”

“Should you be complaining about that? If I wasn’t so forgiving, you’d probably still be begging me to go out with you.”

Thorin chuckled. “I suppose that’s true.”

Bilbo marked his place and put the book down, stealing Thorin’s sunglasses.

Thorin glared at him “Really?”

“What?”

“You’re wearing my sunglasses.”

“I am. How astute of you, Sherlock.”

“Give ‘em back.”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to sleep. Easier to do outside with sunglasses.”

“You’re trying to sleep on a beautiful day at the beach?”

“You won’t go swimming with me,” Thorin almost whined. “Even wading out a little bit would humor me, but nope.”

Thorin sat up, reaching for the book.  Bilbo pulled it away.

“If you’re taking my sunglasses, I’ve the right to take your book. It’s only fair.”

“Sunglasses are _not_ on the same level as a book.”

 Thorin smirked. “Think of it as down payment.”

Bilbo glared at him.

“Hand it over.”

“No,” Bilbo said, trying to guard the book snuggled to his chest.

Thorin pulled him into his lap, earning an indignant squawk from Bilbo and the book was wrestled out of his hands and holding it out of Bilbo’s reach.

“ _U_ _na _parella tan_ bonica _,” a young lady called at them, pausing them in their mock fight. She and her friends ran off, giggling. Thorin hid his face in Bilbo’s good shoulder.

“What’d did they say?”

“Just that we’re cute,” he said. “Nothing more.”

“Well, considering how it could’ve been…”

“Spain is actually rather tolerant of same-sex couples,” Thorin said, shifting to lay his chin on the shoulder instead. “Has been for nearly thirty-five years. Of course, there’s still homophobia, but…you could say it’s better here than in some places. There’s always going to be hate.”

“Just have to find ways to rise above it,” Bilbo said.

Thorin kissed his cheek. “Yeah. I guess that’s the most we can do, rise above it, fight back, not let it hold us down. But you know: calling us cute is not an attack.”

“No, it really isn’t. Embarrassing, but I can live with it.”

“Good,” Thorin said, stealing back his glasses.

“That was cheap,” Bilbo growled, taking back his book.

“Punish me later.”

Bilbo smirked. “Really?”

Thorin returned the grin.

“Cuz I just might when we get back.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Good, because I’ve been looking forward for a reason to use the restraints.”

“We just got here yesterday. Can I do something more heinous than steal back my sunglasses before you use them?”

“You just don’t want to be tied down.”

“I admit I’m a little apprehensive…” Thorin said. Bilbo laughed and kissed him.

“Don’t be,” Bilbo said. “I’ll be gentle.” He slid off Thorin’s lap. “Maybe.” He took a swig from his drink and found his place in the book again. Thorin kissed his shoulder and lay back down.

#

Bilbo scrubbed his skin until it was nearly pink, trying to rid his skin of sand grains in uncomfortable places. How they got in said uncomfortable places, he didn’t know but he was going to blame Thorin. He turned the shower off and stepped out, drying off and entering the bedroom.

Thorin was still in the other shower, so Bilbo tied the towel around his waist and looked for the restraints, smirking as he set them up. Once that was done, he took some ibuprofen for his shoulder. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist and lips pressed against his neck the skin surrounding burned from the scratches left by Thorin’s beard.

“Are you really set against being tied down?” Bilbo asked, wanting to make sure.

“No, but I’d like to hold you.”

“Sap.”

“ _Your_ sap,” Thorin corrected. “And I don’t regret being your sap. You may as well get used to it, Angel.” Bilbo pulled out of Thorin’s embrace and turned, kissing him. He pushed Thorin back against the bed, letting him fall onto the sheets.

He crawled on top of him as Thorin scooted back until his head hit the pillows. He propped up on his arms to kiss Bilbo again. Bilbo removed his towel and tossed it aside, straddling Thorin’s waist and grinning under Thorin’s praiseful glances.

He pushed Thorin down, binding his wrists and ankles to the bed. He kissed Thorin’s lips, a smile pulling at his mouth, and he kissed down Thorin’s chest and along the sides of his abdomen, nibbling at the skin above Thorin’s hips, fingers curling around the towel still wrapped around Thorin’s waist.

Bilbo took a moment to stare at the thick, swelling member between Thorin’s legs. He swallowed and bypassed it to kiss Thorin’s right inner thigh instead, feeling the muscles tense under his lips and nipping with his teeth. He moved to kiss the other leg, kneading flesh and muscle, eyes returning to the swelling cock as his own twitched.

He ignored it again and ignored Thorin’s groans when their cocks brushed together when Bilbo reached for the lube and condoms. He took two packets, sliding one on Thorin and another on himself. He squeezed lube into his hands and coated his fingers in it before straddling Thorin’s waist and reaching around to open himself up.

Thorin watched, mouth slightly open, arms tugging on the restraints, wanting to reach, but unable to. His bright blue eyes darkened as they roamed over Bilbo’s body. Bilbo set his free hand on Thorin’s chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

He pulled his hand away from his ass and grabbed the bottle of lube, squeezing another generous amount into his hand and sliding down to Thorin’s cock, covering it with his hand and pumping slowly. Thorin gasped and whined, head sinking into the pillows as he tried to buck into Bilbo’s hand.

Bilbo straddled him again and gripped the base of Thorin’s cock, slowly sliding down on it. He let go, setting his hands on Thorin’s chest, nails scratching at his skin.

He had almost forgotten the heat that came from having another inside him. His arms and legs strained at keeping him above Thorin and trying to keep a slow, tantalizing rhythm. He could feel Thorin’s legs behind him moving, trying to get a grip on the bed. He could see his arms strain as he tried to combat the restraints. Bilbo smirked, sliding down a little bit more.

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” Bilbo said, “at all.”

He eased down a little more. Thorin closed his eyes, another whine escaping his lips. Bilbo grinned and sank down on Thorin’s cock, fully seated. Thorin gasped, trying to move again and Bilbo squeezed around him.

“ _Fuck_!”

“What did I say?”

“Didn’t think you’d be a little shit about it,” Thorin grouched.

Bilbo giggled and relaxed his muscles.

“Relax,” he whispered in Thorin’s ear. “Let me take care of you, Love.”

He sat up, hands pressed against Thorin’s chest and pushed himself half off Thorin’s cock. The heat slowly intensified with each bounce and he could feel Thorin’s erection pulse within him and the heat spreading all over his body, winding like a coil waiting to spring. Thorin moaned, the ghost of Bilbo’s name echoed on his lips.

“Going to come,” he gasped.

Bilbo slowed, grinning at the whine escaping Thorin’s throat. Once Thorin’s breathing evened a little bit, Bilbo picked up pace again, licking his lips as the heat strengthened and the coil returned, demanding to be released. Bilbo’s legs strained beneath him as he hastened again.

“Come with me,” Bilbo said, gripping his cock and pumping. “Thorin…”

His orgasm ripped through him. Bilbo gasped, forgetting to move for a moment. Thorin’s cock pulsed within him and Bilbo choked back a scream as Thorin bucked his hips, muscles strained. Then stilled, relaxed, gasping for air and a thin sheen of sweat dripping down them.

Bilbo slid off Thorin, pulling the condoms off and tying them, shakily walking into the bathroom to toss them and grab a wash cloth. He wiped his cock first, then took a fresh cloth for Thorin, wiping him down before untying him and collapsing on the bed. He felt as though a weight was pressing into him. His limbs ached terribly and he just wanted to sleep.

“You,” Thorin said. “Amazing.”

Bilbo groaned, trying to think of a witty comeback, something to do with coherency, but failed in being coherent himself, opting instead to weakly hit Thorin’s chest, earning a weak chuckle.

#

He woke to a hum around the head of his cock and sat up, pulling the covers off and letting relief seep through him. Thorin winked at him before sliding more of Bilbo’s cock into his mouth, cheekbones sticking out as he sucked.

Bilbo fell back onto the sheets, hands gripping Thorin’s hair as Thorin bobbed his head and slid his tongue along the veins on the underside of Bilbo’s cock. He hummed again and the vibrations made Bilbo want to scream.

He brought one hand back to his mouth to stop the scream bubbling in the back of his throat. A slick finger pressed against his hole and pushed inside, probing.

Bilbo groaned, digging his heels into the bed. Thorin stopped humming and sucked, his finger joined by another, rubbing against the inner walls of Bilbo’s rectum.

His fingers jabbed Bilbo’s prostate. Bilbo’s vision swam as pleasure bolted through him like an electric current. He screamed, hand clapped over his mouth to muffle it.

Thorin’s fingers rubbed against his prostate, trying to coax another scream out of him. Bilbo felt the coiled spring build again, the hand still gripping Thorin’ hair pulled Thorin up until just the head remained in his mouth.

“Thorin…Thorin…”

His back arched, spilling into Thorin’s mouth, hissing as Thorin’s swallowed and licked the slit. Bilbo panted, feeling Thorin climb over him, massaging his thighs.

“You know, ‘good morning’ would have sufficed,” Bilbo said.

Thorin chuckled, nipping at the lobe of Bilbo’s ear.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he whispered, kissing his neck. “We’ve time before Ibiza Castle opens and I’m wondering if I can make you come again.”

Bilbo threaded his fingers in Thorin’s hair. “So soon? My recovery time’s not _that_ fast.”

“We’ll see,” Thorin promised, his hands gripping Bilbo’s thighs. He rocked his hips against Bilbo’s groin. Bilbo hissed, wincing. “Still sensitive?”

“ _Over_ sensitive,” Bilbo corrected, “May no one doubt your ability to give head.”

Thorin laughed and crashed his lips to Bilbo’s, sliding his tongue over Bilbo’s lips…they broke away at the sound of a ring. Thorin cursed, getting out of bed and answering the phone.

“Hello— _Senyor Galvis, hola…_ ” Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose through his conversation. “ _G_ _ràcies, Senyor._ _Adéu._ ”

He hung up and massaged his head.

“Everything all right?” Bilbo said.

“Yeah,” Thorin sighed. “I’m sorry, one of the mobs associated with my family found out I came here and the boss decided to pay a visit. So…as much as I’d like to make love to you this morning.”

“You can’t.”

“ _We_ can’t. He insists on meeting you.”

“Thorin, I’m pretty sure not everyone is going to be all right with seeing the two of us together, and I’m not sure I’m what he’d expect…”

“He’s _more_ than aware that I’m gay.”

Bilbo arched a brow.

Thorin scratched his chin. “I used to date his son. It was high school and long distance. Stop looking at me like that. It was a long time ago. He’s okay with homosexuality and me as a person…he was not okay with me dating his son…”

“Why?”

“Because his son's his only child and he wants grandkids. Thank God, I have siblings to worry about that for me.”

“So? There’s adoption and surrogacy.”

“Did I not mention he was catholic?”

Bilbo glared at Thorin’s uneasy grin.

“A very loose catholic. It shouldn’t be surprising. You’ve any idea how many mobs are affiliated with a church of some sort?”

Bilbo shook his head. “When do we have to meet him?”

“In two hours at Cafeteria Isla. Which would be about nine o’clock,” Thorin said.

Bilbo glanced at the clock which flashed seven o’six in red digital lines.

“How long will it take to get there?”

“About an hour,” Thorin said. “Unless you want to drive, but…”

“Streets don’t allow it, remind me to bring a handkerchief,” he said, getting out of bed. “And for goodness' sake, wear shorts this time.”

#

 _Senyor Galvis_ was nearly as old as Thrain, clean shaven, and short. His brown hair was thinning on the top of his head but still thick at the sides. His green eyes were friendly, but Bilbo liked to think that they held a sort of sinister glint to them too, like the way Thrain’s eyes did when Bilbo met him. He had a redknapp nose and a straight mustache. He wore a flamboyant, navy blue and white pinstripe suit.

With him were two gentlemen around the same age and one closer to Thorin’s age. Bilbo guessed body guards, though he couldn’t be sure. Other high ranking members of the mafia?

The younger of the quartet they were meeting kept sending glances at Bilbo. He resembled Senyor Galvis in that his hair was the same brown and his eyes the same green. His nose was more roman than redknapp, though.

At first, Bilbo thought the looks he received from the man were hostile, but that quickly faded when he winked at Bilbo, the corners of his lips quirked in a small smile, when Thorin’s back was turned away.

Bilbo stared at the plate in front of him, listening to the quick Catalan spoken between Senyor Galvis and Thorin, sometimes one of the others would interject. He ate slowly, feeling a little left out though he guessed what they were discussing was business related and therefore things Bilbo didn’t need (or want) to know.

At least that’s what he hoped.

“Are you enjoying your stay in Ibiza so far?” Bilbo looked up at the younger and nodded. He held his hand out. “Felip Galvis,” he said. “At your service.”

Bilbo swallowed and gripped Felip’s hand in a firm shake, “Bilbo Baggins, at yours.”

“I have to say, I’m impressed you managed to look past Thorin’s…peculiarities,” Felip said. “He can be overbearing.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Bilbo agreed. “I was actually unnerved by his behavior at first. He almost acted like a stalker.”

Felip sighed, crossing his arms. “He _still_ does that?”

“Well, not anymore.”

“Usually the police are called before he can even open his mouth,” Felip said. Bilbo grinned.

“I doubt they’d be able to do much even so.”

“No, they wouldn’t. The Durin Family is powerful,” he said and Bilbo nodded. “How _did_ Thorin find such a pretty thing as you anyway?”

Bilbo fought down a cringe. _Pretty thing? Seriously?_ “He was bleeding in the alley next to my flat and wouldn’t let me call for an ambulance.”

“Really?”

“I ended up stitching him up in my kitchen,” Bilbo said.

Felip hummed, elbow pressed into the table, and his chin on his hands as he stared at Bilbo.

“Thorin and I were, what’s the word, pen pals growing up, so I suppose our relationship was a little less awkward in the beginning. Nor was it so dramatic!”

“It was suggested once or twice that he never travel anywhere without a bulletproof vest.”

Felip hummed.

“What are you doing?” Thorin growled, glaring at Felip.

“Would you rather we be fighting over you?” he asked, unimpressed. Felip grinned. “Sadly, I’m more likely to fight _you_ over Bilbo, Thorin.”

Bilbo blushed and slid down in his seat as his partner and his partner’s ex glared at each other.

Well, _Thorin_ glared. Felip smirked. Bilbo wondered how serious it would be if Felip actually tried to woo him. It was bad enough having Kili chasing after him and vowing to steal him from Thorin.

The other three were ignoring them.

Thorin smirked darkly.

“Aren’t you married, Felip? I’m quite sure I was at your wedding.”

“My wife and I have an understanding. I’ve a son of my own to carry on the family and we’re both good friends still. Beyond that—”

“She cheated on you, didn’t she? Or was it the other way around? Both?”

Bilbo slapped Thorin’s arm. “You’re worse than my grandmother right now.”

“It’s either this or we pull out our guns,” Thorin said. Felip shrugged. Bilbo gaped.

“You brought a gun?!”

“Just a revolver.”

“Knowing him, he’s got two pistols, three revolvers, and a shotgun in your hotel room. With ammo,” Felip said. “I’m far less barbaric. Speaking of, Thorin, how are the turf wars in Erebor going?”

Thorin chuckled. “Bilbo, he’s exaggerating. I swear it’s just a revolver. The safety’s on. It won’t go off. I told you, Ibiza is safe.”

“You still brought a gun!”

“A _small_ one! And it’s more so I don’t feel naked than for protection.”

“Sure it’s not,” Felip snorted.

Bilbo hid his face in his hands. _Can’t anything be normal?_ he asked himself.

Thorin snapped at Felip in Catalan, making the other scoff.  

“Bilbo,” Felip said. “Would you like a tour of the city?”

“ _Felip_ ,” Thorin growled.

“Actually, Thorin and I were going to Ibiza Castle later today,” Bilbo said, grabbing Thorin’s forearm before he flew across the table and choked Felip. Thorin relaxed, but not by much, still standing and glowering at Felip, who displayed a semblance of ideal calmness.

“Felip, _anem_ ,” Senyor Galvis said. He inclined his head to Bilbo and Thorin. “Enjoy the rest of your vacation.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said.

Felip winked at him one last time and followed the others. Thorin growled, hands clenched into fists. Bilbo pulled Thorin down into his seat, pressing a kiss to Thorin’s mouth.

“Have you actually eaten any of your food?”

Thorin glanced at the untouched fruit in front of him. Bilbo shook his head. “Eat and then we’ll go to the castle. And we’ll discuss this thing about needing a gun on your person to feel secure later. Understood?” Thorin nodded and Bilbo kissed him again. “Good. Eat your breakfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT:  
> a big thanks to "comments" for correcting the Catalan as much as possible.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is later than usual. Sorry about that! Had writer's block.

Ibiza Castle was a stone fortress overlooking the sea and built on the highest hill in the city.

The day grew hotter and the walk up to the castle was grueling.

Bilbo decided that next time, he’d convince Thorin that winter was a better time to visit the Mediterranean.

In the end, the trip was worth it.

The castle was beautiful and he took the time to take various pictures when he could. Under archways, by a disused cannons and cannon balls, and overlooking the city or ocean.

He took the time to read the plaque and revel in the history the castle had.

Built in the twelfth century, the wall was added during the renaissance, and Alfonso the Third of Aragon had visited in the thirteenth century.

It would have been nice to go _inside_ , but the exterior of the castle wasn’t too bad and no amount of bribing would have convinced the guard to allow them in.

Bilbo and the poor guard had to convince an irate Thorin that there was a good reason for it. Bilbo liked to guess why the inside of the castle was off limits. His thoughts ranged from historical integrity to corrosion to booby traps.

Bilbo leaned against a wall overlooking the sea.

“So, the gun,” he said.

Thorin hummed, drinking some more water.

“Care to explain why you decided to bring it?”

“You’re not going to leave it alone, are you?”

“I’m slightly disturbed, to be honest.”

“Would you rather I not have something on me to protect you with?” Thorin snapped.

“Well, you said it’d be safe here.”

“It is. You’re as safe as you can be. That does _not_ mean that no one might attack us for one reason or other. I’d rather be prepared than caught with my pants down.”

Bilbo snickered. “Interesting choice of words.”

Thorin smirked at him. “Innuendo aside, I feel a little more comfortable with a gun on me. And as I said before, the safety’s on. It won’t go off. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Did you bring a bulletproof vest?”

“Are you ever going to let go that my getting shot in _your_ alley was actually a good thing?”

“I fail to see how it was a good thing.”

“We met,” Thorin said. “Is that not good?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Bilbo said, “Before now, before I decided to give you a chance, I would say no, it wasn’t. Honestly, you kind of scared me, Thorin. I was terrified to go out with you and I was terrified _not_ to go out with you.

“In so many ways I was conflicted. That’s why I didn’t want to see you. I hated Erebor with a passion and having a connection of any sort would have compromised my decision to leave. A part of me still does want to leave. God knows I hate it there.

“The shootings and the robberies and—you know, given that it’s a mafia run city, I thought there’d be a lot less crime. Or that it’d be further underground than it really is. But it was on the surface and always right in my face. I wanted to leave because I was afraid. I’m still afraid, to be honest.”

“Hmm,” Thorin scratched his chin. “Erebor’s a battle zone. Everyone living there is connected to the mafia in one way or other and there’s always a war going on between Dale and Mirkwood, or Gundebad and Durin. Sometimes it’s a mix.

“Everyone’s fighting and there’re always negotiations and renegotiations going on between our gangs and the smaller gangs. Dale and Mirkwood are joined with Erebor, but even then it’s unstable.

“Associating oneself with one gang or another _will_ give you a clear side. You’ll have enemies and you’ll have allies. Most of Erebor is allied to my father, Thranduil, or Bard. Gundebad is a very violent gang and they’re the cusp of most of what goes wrong in Erebor. You’re safe with us.”

Bilbo scoffed. “Safe, maybe, but dating you, I think, is going to make me a target in Gundebad’s eyes.” He partially meant it as a joke, but regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth.

Thorin took his hand and kissed it. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Angel,” he said.

“I know,” Bilbo said, gently squeezing Thorin’s hand. “And I do trust you, but I guess my fears are a bit stronger than I thought they’d be.”

Thorin moved to stand in front of him and kissed him, his lips soft and gentle, chaste. Promising. Insistent.

And a growling stomach interrupted it.

Bilbo smiled. “Hungry?” he asked.

“No point in denying it now, I suppose.” Thorin stepped back, leading Bilbo back down to the plaza.

#

Bilbo draped a white shell necklace around Thorin’s neck, grinning up at his scowl.

“Suits you,” he said.

Thorin rolled his eyes, trying not to blush while Bilbo bought the necklace from the vendor.

“Maybe we should get you a tie dye scarf.”

Thorin shook his head. “You can get the scarf.”

“Fine, you get microbraids.”

“ _No_.”

“I dare you,” Bilbo teased, poking Thorin’s ribs. Thorin glared at him.

“Don’t push it.”

“I _dare_ you.”

“Fine, I’ll get them, but they come out before we go home.” Bilbo grinned, kissing his cheek.

“Maybe we can get some in your beard—”

“I’m drawing the line there.”

Bilbo laughed and stopped at a tie dye stall, selecting a red and orange headscarf for himself paired with purple shaded sunglasses. He put it on his hair pulled back off his forehead.

They found someone willing to put the braids in Thorin’s hair and Bilbo left to get them iced tea from Bar Hobbit.

He beamed at Thorin and chatted in English with some of the artists while he waited for Thorin’s hair to be finished. There was simply so much of it.

By the time they were done, Bilbo was dragging him off to the Grill for dinner.

Thorin kept scowling at his new braids as though he was questioning their mere existence.

Bilbo grabbed his hands. “Stop that, they look good on you,” he said, kissing Thorin’s knuckles. “You look good.”

“By good you mean ridiculous.”

“I mean _good_ ,” Bilbo said. “Approachable and handsome.” He took a braid in his hand and twirled it around his finger. “ _Cute_.”

Thorin glared. “I’m not cute.”

“You’re very cute. Get over it,” Bilbo stood on his toes and pecked his lips. “Now stop being so grumpy.”

“I’m not being grumpy.”

Bilbo grinned. “I’d never have imagined it.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “I’m _not_.”

“ _Sure_ you’re not.”

Thorin steered him forward. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“You love me anyway,” Bilbo said, beaming at him. His smile died and his cheeks flushed as the meaning of the words caught up to him. _What did I just say?!_

Thorin kissed his cheek. “Yes, I love you anyway,” he said. “And that, my angel, is the only reason I’d let you dare me to wear microbraids.” Thorin ordered their food while Bilbo lowered his eyes to stare at his feet.

He wasn’t sure he knew he was doing anymore.  Or perhaps he did know, but was slowly coming to realize that sooner or later, it’d end. Thorin would not be his beloved for much longer and it was silly to think it could last. Or maybe it wasn’t that all good things come to an end, but rather that they had a future together.

Bilbo couldn’t decide what was scarier:

No future with Thorin or a future with him. _Why do both scenarios frighten me?_ he thought. _Why am I terrified of him and yet at the same time terrified to be without him?_ Thorin led him to a table and kissed him. Bilbo answered, hoping to feel something other than fear or lust.

“What was that for?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo shrugged. “Just wanted to kiss you,” he said. Thorin beamed, swooping down to take another kiss, his hand cupping Bilbo’s cheek as he dominated the kiss. Bilbo tried to navigate through his emotions. His heart beat faster, his skin burned where Thorin touched him.

In many ways, he could say he might love Thorin.

But it was so similar to fear, he couldn’t tell them apart.

 _I want to love him_ , Bilbo thought, taking Thorin’s hand in his after they ate. _Or at least try to love him. Even if just a little bit, I want to be able to feel the way he feels for me._

#

The water slushed around him and the setting sun painted the sky violet purple and the water orange.

Bilbo stared at his hands, frowning, wondering if he made the right decision, again. _Perhaps I should leave Erebor when the year ends_ , he thought. His heart panged, reminding him Thorin would stand in his way if he tried to leave.

But it was not the ache he would have expected to feel.

“What is it?” Thorin asked, dipping into the Jacuzzi. “You’ve been quiet since dinner. Way you were acting before, I expected you to keep being a nuisance till we got back.”

Bilbo blinked at him. He swallowed. “I don’t know,” he admitted, staring at his hands again. “I usually do know what I’m thinking or what I’m feeling. But I’m confused. And I’m feeling things I never thought I would feel. I have fun with you.”

“And that’s bad?”

“No. It’s good. It’s a very good thing. But I never expected it. I expected to be scared of you more. I expected you to become…a real stalker, I suppose. I expected you to be someone evil that I needed to keep at a distance. It was hard to look at you as anything more than Thorin the Mafioso.” Bilbo bit his lip. “God knows I’m trying and I can’t tell if I can see past it or not. I know you confuse me.”

“I confuse you?” Thorin asked, arching a brow and smirking. “I’m quite certain I’m not that complex.”

Bilbo smiled. “Well, you’re a little clueless when it comes to approaching a person you happen to fancy,” he said. “You can be a little overbearing and clingy. You’ve a very forceful presence. You’re more like that black knight than prince charming. The pillaging type.”

Thorin blinked. “Should I worry about that?”

“You’re fine for now,” Bilbo said. “You know what you want and you go for it, which is admirable. And you tried—failed, but tried—to leave me alone when I asked you to. But I suppose I wasn’t exactly helping you out in that. Somehow I ended up in your path anyway time and time again.

“Or maybe you ended up in my path. I don’t know. You frighten me, Thorin, but with you, I’ve been more alive than I have been my whole life. With you, I’ve never done things I’ve never done before.

“I wonder what my life would be like if we never met and all I can think of is that it’d be safe—as safe as I could be in Erebor, anyway. But that also means I’d be as alone as I was before.

“I couldn’t live. I didn’t feel safe enough to live. I’m terrified to say it, but with you, I’m alive again and more alive than I have been my whole life.”

Thorin swam closer. “What are you trying to say?” he asked.

 _Good question_ , he thought. If he said it now, and it didn’t feel right, then he would be giving Thorin false hope. But if it did feel right, then would not his mind be cleared of all the confusion?

He looked up at Thorin, staring into eyes the color of blue salvia flowers. Beautiful eyes.

They stared at him in a way he’d never been stared at before. It wasn’t the way someone looked at him that made him think of the way he stares at food. Nor was it the awe one had when they likened someone to something out of reach, like the moon or stars.

If he were to name the look, he’d call it adoration.

Not lust, not inquisitive, but reverence.

It was frightening to be stared at like that. It was focused, unblinking, trying to memorize him as though Thorin was afraid it would all be just a dream.

Bilbo craned his neck, pressing his lips to Thorin’s.

 _I can do this_ , Bilbo thought. _I just need to be more patient. What I feel will sort out…hopefully sooner rather than later._

Thorin pressed the palm of his hand to Bilbo’s cheek, gently nipping Bilbo’s bottom lip.

Bilbo tilted his head back, lips parting slightly. Bilbo straddled Thorin’s lap and wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck, grinning as Thorin moved his hands to Bilbo’s waist.

Thorin slide his tongue into Bilbo’s mouth, his tongue met by Bilbo’s.

Bilbo slid his hands into Thorin’s hair. It was different. He was used to silken tresses flowing free through his hands, not ropes of braids. He wouldn’t regret making Thorin get the microbraids. He liked them enough and he was going to get a picture of them before Thorin took them out.

Thorin moved his hands down to Bilbo’s thighs, picking him up and standing out of the Jacuzzi.

“I love you,” Thorin whispered. “I love you, Bilbo.”

 _I love you, too_ , Bilbo thought. _At least I think I do—_

Thorin broke the kiss. “You do?”

Bilbo blinked. “Did I just say that aloud?”

Thorin’s eyes were wide, staring at him, searching for deceit.

Bilbo blushed. “I guess I did. I guess I do.”

Thorin pulled him back, kissing him again with more passion, pulling a moan from Bilbo’s throat. He pulled away from Bilbo’s lips to kiss his neck, marking the skin.

“Bedroom,” Bilbo said. “Now. Please.”

Thorin released him and they stood and Thorin pulled him back inside.

Bilbo kissed his cheek, pulling his hand free from Thorin’s grasp to get into bed.

Thorin grabbed condoms.

“Any plans for tomorrow?” Bilbo asked.

“Nothing that can’t wait for the day after,” Thorin said, pulling the covers over them and positioning himself between Bilbo’s legs. “If that’s what you want.”

Bilbo kissed Thorin, running his hands over Thorin’s chest.

“I think it is,” Bilbo said. “At least right now, it is.”

Thorin grinned. He unwrapped the packets, covering Bilbo’s cock with the first condom, his own with the second.

Bilbo locked his legs around Thorin’s waist, pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around Thorin’s neck to kiss him, groaning as their cocks brushed against each other.

“Turn over for me,” Thorin purred in his ear.

Bilbo furrowed his brow.

“I want to rim you, Angel.”

Bilbo swallowed, believing his mouth had gone dry. He unlocked his legs from around Thorin and gently pushed him off so to get onto his stomach. He crossed his arms and laid his head on them.

Thorin massaged Bilbo’s ass and spread the globes apart. Bilbo shifted to his knees.

“Watch your shoulder, Angel,” Thorin reminded him, his breath like bursts of air on his ass.

Bilbo mumbled an assurance that he was quite aware of his shoulder’s state as Thorin started to lick his hole.

The licks were joined by kisses sucked into the skin and against his hole, leaving Bilbo breathless and he pressed his forehead against his forearms.

Thorin pressed his tongue inside Bilbo, slowly fucking him with the slick muscle.

Bilbo whined, gasping. “Oh fuck. God. Thorin, _yes_.”

Thorin moaned and Bilbo choked back a scream, trying to stuff his hand into his mouth. He thrust his tongue in and out.

“Thorin,” Bilbo moaned. “Oh, _Thorin_!”

Thorin slid his tongue out and kissed Bilbo’s hole before standing on his knees and flipping Bilbo back onto his back, leaning over him.

Bilbo blinked, eyes trailing down Thorin’s chest and abdomen before they reached his groin, eying the beautiful member hanging between his legs.

He swallowed, lifting his gaze back to Thorin’s eye. Bilbo licked his lips, rewarded with a moan as Thorin pressed his body down on Bilbo’s, biting and sucking his neck. Bilbo gasped when their cocks met.

Thorin rocked his hips, rubbing their cocks together and Bilbo’s fingers curled into his hair, tugging on the ropes and arching his back.

“Fuck, Thorin, _more_!” Bilbo gasped. “Please! Thorin— _oh_!”

Thorin kissed his neck and pushed himself off, reaching for the lube. He coated his fingers in the fluid and reached between Bilbo’s legs, prodding Bilbo’s hole with a finger, pressing the first finger inside.

Bilbo pushed back on the digit till it was fully seated in him.

Thorin gasped, staring at Bilbo, who grinned cheekily.

“Brat.”

Bilbo squeezed around the digit and Thorin growled. He relaxed and Thorin wiggled the finger around, searching for Bilbo’s prostate. He moaned when the finger brushed against his p-spot.

Thorin jabbed his finger against it, smirking when Bilbo yelped. Another finger joined the first, rubbing against Bilbo’s prostate.

Bilbo closed his eyes, tilted his head back. His ands scrambled for Thorin’s shoulders, his nails dug into the skin as Thorin worked him open, coaxing moans and sometimes a scream from Bilbo’s throat.

He didn’t know how much time passed but Bilbo’s need grew while Thorin’s fingers stretched the ring of muscle and probed inside him.

“Thorin, please. Now. I need you now.”

Thorin kissed him. “One more finger, then you’re _mine_ , angel.”

Bilbo whined and Thorin nipped his throat, working his thumb into the tight ring. He bucked his hips, gasping as Thorin stretched him just a little bit more. Tears wet the corners of Bilbo’s eyes.

“ _Thorin_ ,” he growled.

“So impatient,” Thorin teased. Pulling his fingers out of Bilbo, Thorin stood on his knees.

Bilbo’s hands fell to either side of his head, fingers curled toward his palms. He tiled his head to the right, watching Thorin coat his cock generously. He bit his lip, pulling his knees up and spreading his legs as far as he could.

Thorin licked his lips and leaned over him, positioning his cock against Bilbo’s hole and slowly pushed the head in.

Bilbo whimpered as Thorin rocked into him, slowly pushing himself into Bilbo. He wrapped his legs around Thorin’s waist again.

Thorin gripped Bilbo’s wrists, pinning them to the bed. He rolled his hips and Bilbo closed his eyes, arching his back, his cock pressed between their abdomens.

Thorin pressed his lips to Bilbo’s, swallowing the breathy moans Bilbo released. His hands slid off Bilbo’s wrists to grab his hips, holding him closer.

“Please, Thorin,” Bilbo groaned between kisses. “I need— _Oh!_ ”

Thorin chuckled, thrusting faster into him. “You need?” he growled. “What is it you need, my angel?” he asked. “You need to come?” Thorin jabbed Bilbo’s prostate hard.

Bilbo gasped, his vision blurring.

“Need release?”

" _Yes_! Fuck, _yes_!”

Thorin nipped his lips, gripping the base of Bilbo’s cock and squeezing.

Bilbo yelped, bucking into Thorin’s hand, which slid to the tip of Bilbo’s cock and back down, ruthlessly pumping him to the point of pain. He screamed as a coiled spring prepared to burst within him. He grabbed Thorin’s shoulders.

“Then come for me, baby,” Thorin purred in Bilbo’s ear, nipping at the lobe. Bilbo screamed, the spring released, and his cock pulsed, the semen contained by the condom.

Thorin stood on his knees, digging his fingers into Bilbo’s hips as he thrust into him.

Tears trailed down his cheeks as the stimulation grew too fierce. Bilbo sobbed as he waited for Thorin to reach completion. And when the time came, Bilbo wailed as Thorin rode out his orgasm, thrusts growing infrequent.

Then all was still.

Thorin leaned over Bilbo his arms shaking, sweat dripped over his skin. He kissed him again, mumbling _I love you_.

Bilbo smiled against his lips.

“I love you too.”

Thorin beamed, kissing Bilbo passionately before daring to separate himself from Bilbo. He pulled the condoms off and tied them before wobbling into the bathroom to fetch a towel.

Once cleaned, Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s waist and placed his head on Bilbo’s breast. Bilbo lazily played with a braid, letting the calm surround him.

He closed his eyes to a restful dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there is a hippie market in Ibiza. And YES, there is a place IN the market called Bar Hobbit. Serves coffee, tea, juice, pastries, etc. 
> 
> This isn’t anywhere near close to the headscarf I have in mind for Bilbo but it’s the same style I was thinking of: http://picture-cdn.wheretoget.it/09gqbo-l-610x610-scarf-harry-styles-eyeglasses-print-olive-green-olive-green-scarf-headscarf.jpg 
> 
> This is What Thorin’s hair looks like once done (back only): http://ep.yimg.com/ty/cdn/easywear/Thinboxbraidswithcornrowsback.jpg


	12. Chapter 12

Gunshots cut through the fog. They echoed on the air.

One after another as the war raged on Erebor’s streets.

The dead piled up, one corpse on top of another in a pyramid right beside the _Welcome to Erebor_ sign.

Thorin sat in an alley, propped against a wall and pressed his hand against the wound.

Bolg stood in front of him, a gun in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

He put the butt of the cigarette in his mouth. He inhaled and aimed the gun. He lowered the cigarette, tapping his finger against it.

Ashes wet the cement.

“You should’ve let him go. Whole mess wouldn’t have happened if he left.”

“It’s not my fault he’s dead,” Thorin said. “You’d be doing me a favor in killing me. So go ahead.”

Bolg pulled the trigger—

Bilbo sat up, breathing heavily. His heart hammered in his chest. Slowly, he laid back down onto his back, staring at the ceiling above him.

“Bilbo?” Thorin mumbled, opening an eye. “Everything all right?”

“Y-yeah,” Bilbo answered. “Everything’s fine.”

_It was just a dream. A very bad dream._

Thorin propped himself up on his elbow.

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Bilbo snapped. “It was just a nightmare, Thorin. I’m all right.”

Thorin stared at him, frowning. Bilbo turned to face him.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Thorin. Other than a little bit shaken up, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Okay,” Thorin said. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” Bilbo assured him. “But not now.”

Thorin embraced him, kissing his forehead.

“I’m right here, my angel.”

Bilbo nodded, hiding his face in Thorin’s chest.

 _I can do this_ , he thought, nuzzling deeper into Thorin’s chest. _I can do this._

#

“Yo.”

Kili looked at Fili standing in the doorway. He wore a navy blue blazer with matching slacks and a bright red shirt and a black tie. Leave it to his brother to choose “clashing” as his preferred fashion.

“What are you doing?” Kili asked.

“Just checking in. Mum’s worried. She asked me to kick your ass out of bed since the break began. Now Spring Break’s about halfway done and you’ve not left the bed. She’d be in here if not for a meeting with Thranduil. Anway, wanna go to the Lonely Mountain?”

“Not interested,” Kili mumbled.

“Damn, man, you’re such a girl!”

“Excuse me?”

“Kili, I know you like him, but he’s your _teacher_ and he has a boyfriend. I might not be happy with the way he handled you’re crush on him—I _really_ don’t like it, to be honest—but the guy on his own isn’t that bad.” Fili leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms. “You’ve never been this smitten with anyone before. Besides, I did a little…looking into who said mystery boyfriend is, if you’re interested.”

Kili wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but his brother wasn’t going to leave. And he would be lying if he wasn’t even a midge curious.

“Who?”

“Get out of bed, take a shower and brush your goddamn teeth. We’ll go to the Lonely Mountain and I’ll tell you.”

“Bastard.”

“Do you want to know or not?”

Kili flipped him off.

“I’ll meet you downstairs in half an hour.”

Fili wrinkled his nose.

“Better make it an hour. You reek more than great-granddad and he’s rotting in the ground.”

“Fuck you,” Kili snapped.

Fili laughed as he left the room.

Kili climbed out of bed and headed to the shower. The warm water was a relief on his skin and soothed sore muscles. He really shouldn’t be wallowing. He knew that. But thinking about Bilbo hurt.

From the moment Bilbo stepped into the classroom, Kili was enamored with his teacher. He kept his attraction in check, reminding himself that he needed to wait.

He didn’t want to hurt Bilbo’s career by getting him involved with a student so soon after he began teaching. He enjoyed riling him up too much.

The one time he kissed him, back in February, was a violation of the promise he made himself, but he didn’t like seeing Bilbo cry.

He had only meant to make Bilbo know someone appreciated him; cared for him. He didn’t exactly expect to be shoved off his lap. He ran as soon as his butt hit the floor.

He changed his tactic after that, trying to make Bilbo realize that he was appreciated more than he thought he was and his feelings for him just grew. A part of him was convinced it was just physical, but there was more to it.

Bilbo was smart, funny, sassy…

He was supportive of Kili in ways his family never had been.

His grandfather never understood Kili’s aversion to working for the mafia, calling it a rebellious phase.

Thorin understood to some degree, saying he and Frerin both went through that phase themselves.

 _You’ll grow out of it too,_ they said. _You’ll make a fine Durin one day._

Even his own mother didn’t understand why he was so against being a Mafioso.

_What did being honest ever do for this family? You’ve a killer shot, honey. You’ll make a fine assassin one day, Kili. Why throw that kind of talent away?_

He didn’t want anything to do with the Family.

Bilbo was the first to tell him to do what he thought was right and follow his heart. Who wouldn’t fall in love with someone who urged others to be themselves rather than what they aren’t?

He turned the shower off, brushed his teeth, and went to dress, choosing fresh jeans and a black graphic Iron Maiden t-shirt before pulling on red doc martens. He tied his hair into a pony tail and went down the stairs to meet Fili.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” Kili said. Fili tossed his jacket to him.

“One of these days, you’ll learn to dress properly.”

“Excuse me? I don’t look like a walking billboard of _Fashion Disaster_.”

They climbed into the car. As soon as the door  closed, the car rolled into motion.

“It’s not that bad.”

“The orange shirt you like to pair with a grey pinstripe is pretty hideous. Even Mum agrees. Just let her dress you up instead. You’ll not regret it.”

“I’m quite sure I would. Mum loves black too much.”

“Black is the only color you can’t go wrong with,” Kili muttered, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. “Idiot.”

Fili’s phone rang and he answered, promptly getting into a shouting match with a business partner. Something to do with missing alcohol.

Not good, but could be worse. Drugs were worse. Firearms would be cause for alarm.

Kili stared out the window, pondering what Fili knew. He hoped whatever he found was bad enough that he’d not feel bad about stealing Bilbo away.

Fili didn’t get off the pone until they were on the street outside the café.

“Idiots!” he snarled, pocketing hi phone. “If that liquor isn’t found soon, Grandpa will murder me.”

“Oh, shudder the thought,” Kili muttered. “Then I’d be stuck running the Durins all on my own instead of you.”

“Still in that whole ‘I wanna go to college’ phase?”

“It’s _not_ a phase! I’ve applied to King’s and Oxford already. Bilbo thinks I have a good chance at getting into one of those. Plus, Grandpa is willing to fund it until I graduate or quit…whichever comes first.”

“Oh, you convinced him,” Fili said, peering at the pastries.

“I also applied to Cambridge and U of M,” Kili said, smirking. “Haven’t heard back, yet, but so far…”

“We’re here to discuss your unhealthy obsession with your teaher,” Fili reminded him. “Not bore me to death with talk of _school_. Geez! Why do you even _want_ to go back after this year? I don’t get it—don’t tell me. I’d rather not know.”

“Fine, what do you know about Bilbo’s boyfriend? And I’m _not_ obsessed with him.”

“You fawn over him enough. It’s a miracle you don’t drool all over your desk. Order your coffee. Want some cinnamon coffee cake to go with it?”

Kili shook his head. “No thanks.”

Fili paid and led them to a table in the back away from the window and prying eyes.

“So, his boyfriend,” he said, pulling out a file. Kili reached for it and Fili pulled it away. “Before you look at this, you need to promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Define stupid.”

“Like going after your teacher’s man, Ki. Trust me, this isn’t a guy you want to rumble with.”

“Just give me the damn file.”

“ _Promise me._ ”

“Fine,” Kili snapped. “I promise.”

Fili handed him the file and he opened it. Within were security photos from the Carrock Casino.

Bilbo was sitting at a table. The back of his boyfriend’s head faced the camera. A braid in his hair listed him as one of Durin’s men.

Kili’s stomach felt like it was being twisted like a wet dish rag. He looked at the next picture.

This time, he was able to see the mystery man’s face. He looked up at Fili.

“Is this some kind of joke?!”

“Dwalin confirmed it,” he said.

“They didn’t meet until he drove me to school later that week!”

“Clearly that wasn’t the first time they met,” Fili said, taking a swig of coffee.

Kili dropped the photos, hiding his face in his hands.

Fili sighed. “I’m sorry, Ki. I know this is a lot to process—”

“What? That the teacher I’ve been in love with for months is dating our uncle? No. That’s not hard to process. I’m just…Thorin _knew_ I loved him…” He massaged his forehead. “I shouldn’t have let Bilbo leave on Friday.”

“What happened on Friday?”

“He told me he and his—he and _Thorin_ were getting out of town. And Thorin said he was going to be in Ibiza for a week. What’s the likelihood they ever actually left the hotel?”

Fili wrinkled his nose. “Kili, I don’t even want to think about Thorin having sex. I mean, it’s miraculous enough he got past the first date with him.”

“Exactly! I love Thorin…were it anyone else I’d be glad for him.” He stood, grabbing his coffee. “I’m, um, going home.”

“Kili—”

“No, I just… _can’t_ right now. All right?”

Fili leaned back in his seat.

“Thanks for the coffee and for,” Kili swallowed. His thoughts were jumbled. His head ached and his limbs were numb. “For telling me.”

“Are you sure you want to be alone right now? You haven’t even looked through the whole thing.”

“I think that’s for the best,” Kili said, rushing for the door and ignoring Fili’s shouts for him to stop and think before doing something stupid.

He strode down the alley, coffee cup in hand. He tossed it first chance he got and entered an alley, leaning against the brick wall.

_Bilbo is with Thorin. Bilbo is in love with Thorin. Thorin is dating Bilbo._

_Does he even love him?_

_Oh, he loves him all right. Thorin wouldn’t have pursued him if he didn’t feel anything for him._

Kili slammed his fist repeatedly into a giant garbage bin before sliding down to the ground and hid his face in his knees, weeping.

He wanted to hate Bilbo. Or Thorin. Hell, even Fili! But he couldn’t bring himself to really resent any of them. Bilbo had been clear that he didn’t want to be more than friends.

Hell, he didn’t think of Kili as anything more than a _boy_.

 _Perhaps it was pointless to hope,_ he thought.

A car skidded to a halt outside the alley. Kili scrambled to his feet, ready to fight if need be. It’d be therapeutic at least. The window rolled down.

“Kili!” Fili shouted. “Get in. I’ll drive you home. Then take another fucking shower, you idiot.”

Kili lowered his fists, approaching his brother.

“Jeez, man! What were you thinking? You want those Mirkwood fuckers looking for you?” Fili reprimanded.

He ignored Fili, staring out the window.

Fili sighed. “I know you like him, Ki, but it might be best to just forget him. Thorin deserves to be happy and I’ve not seen him so happy before Bilbo came.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“I know it’s not,” he said. “And I’m on your side, but Thorin has a hard enough time getting someone to look at him normally let alone be able to look past everything about his life as a Durin. I know you wish that it was someone else. I do, too.”

Kili scoffed. “You _hate_ Bilbo.”

“I don’t hate him. I was suspicious of him, but I _never_ hated him,” Fili said. He sighed. “I have to figure out what happened to the liquor, but I can stay home if you need me too.” Kili shook his head.

“I just…I need to process everything. Can I have the file?”

“Sure,” Fili said, pulling it out of his briefcase. “Kili, don’t crawl back into bed. Put a movie on in the game room or play _World of Warcraft_ or something. Don’t check out again with a tub of chunky monkey or whatever.”

“I fuckin’ hate you sometimes.”

Fili smirked, pulling his phone out and dialing a number. Kili leaned against the window, staring at the grey skies.

He could understand why neither his uncle nor Bilbo thought to tell him. The whole ordeal was immensely awkward now and he simply didn’t know what to do…

Kili closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears that threatened to fall come. He bit his lip and took a deep breath. At home, he put the file on his desk and sat down before looking through it again.

There was security footage of them at different areas in the city. One at a hotel lobby where his uncle wore _jeans_. Thorin was into Armani suits and expensive sports car, so seeing him in jeans was…new.

Fili’s style was very similar to him (except Thorin’s fashion sense was significantly better). He wondered where they met first. How they met. How Thorin managed to weasel Bilbo into dating him.

He picked up a picture of Bilbo smiling at something Thorin said.

 _I’m not going to give up_ , he decided. _Not until I know there is no hope. I won’t give up._

#

“Here,” Thorin said, handing Bilbo a strawberry dripping in chocolate sauce. Bilbo eyed it suspiciously. “What? Don’t you trust me?”

“You’re smiling in a way that makes me worried,” Bilbo admitted.

“Really?” Thorin asked, grin widening. “What do you think I did to a bowl of strawberries and a bottle of chocolate sauce? Try it.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and took a bite, his mouth assaulted by sweet-sharp flavors.

“Now will you accept that I’m _not_ trying to poison you?”

Bilbo licked his lips free of excess chocolate, smirking at Thorin. “Maybe. But how am I supposed to know unless you eat some yourself?”

“It might have something to do with how sexy you look eating strawberries.”

Bilbo laughed. “Hooray for sensual fruit!”

“You’ve no idea,” Thorin said, taking a bite from his own strawberry. “Coupled with a sensual lover…I don’t know. Maybe this was a bad idea,” he said. “I should’ve gotten bananas instead.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, grabbing another strawberry. “I’ll stick with strawberries, thanks.” Thorin grinned. “What? These are actually good strawberries!”

“I know. The chocolate’s not half bad either.” His grin turned sly. “If there’s any left over, I’d like to—”

Someone rapped at the door and an accented, “Delivery for Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo furrowed his brow. He stood and grabbed a pair of shorts before he approached the door. Thorin covered his own parts with the thin blanket that once surrounded both of them. Bilbo opened the door.

The maid handed him a bouquet. “Enjoy the rest of your day,” she said before fleeing.

The bouquet was made up of yellow roses, Peruvian lilies, white daisies, and green button poms. Bilbo closed the door and searched for…

_Ah-ha! A note!_

“Who’s it from?”

“Gimme a moment,” Bilbo said. He unfolded the paper.

  _I hope you are enjoying your stay in Ibiza so far. We should get coffee some time before you return to Erebor. Kisses — Felip_

Bilbo blushed.

“Bilbo?”

He jumped. “Oh, uh, it’s nothing. I think I made a bigger impression on your ex than I thought I did.”

Thorin glared and stood, pulling the note from Bilbo’s hand. “Give me the flowers.”

“So you can trash them?!” Bilbo asked. “No!”

“So you’d keep a gift from someone who has no problems—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We can give them to the staff instead,” Bilbo said. “It’d probably cheer up someone’s day!”

Thorin took the flowers out of his hand and stormed to the kitchen.

“Thorin, there’s no need for to act so childish!”

“I’m acting childish?!” Thorin bellowed. Bilbo blinked, staring at him. “Someone else _flirted_ with my lover and _I’m_ acting childish?!” He ripped the flowers off the stems. “The person _I love_ thought of accepting another’s gift and _I’m_ acting childish?!”

“Thorin, calm down—”

“ _Calm down?!_ ” he shouted. “How am I supposed to calm down?”

“I wasn’t _going_ to keep them! But it would be a waste to just toss them. Not that it matters now since you’ve destroyed them! Why does Felip bother you so much? For God’s sake, are you _that_ insecure with yourself? Yes, he’s charming—”

Thorin scoffed. “Wonderful!” he snarled, heading into the bedroom and pulling on his clothes.

“Will you let me finish?!” Bilbo shouted, following him. “I didn’t come this way to be with Felip! I am _here_ with _you_! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? I told you I love you! Did you think I was lying?”

“Wouldn’t be the fucking first time someone did,” Thorin growled, grabbing the key card. Bilbo’s shoulders slumped.

“What?”

“Come on, Bilbo! I know I’m awkward. I know I’ve scared off nearly everyone else I’ve ever cared for outside my family! I fall in love too quickly, I’m too clingy—”

“I am sorry you’ve been hurt so much in the past, but none of that was me! And I’m not going to run off with Felip! _Thorin_ ,” Bilbo grabbed his wrist. “I truly believe that I am in love with you. Or that I might be. Why would I not give us a chance to find out where this could go?”

Thorin stared at Bilbo’s hand gripping his.

“Sweetheart, look at me. I am not going anywhere. Not with Felip or anyone.”

“You still want to leave Erebor.”

“What does that have anything to do with it? You want me to stay so…” He cut himself off. Could he make that promise? He wanted to. He _so_ wanted to make this promise to him. But could he?

“You still don’t know whether or not you’ll stay.”

“I know you want me to, but…”

“You don’t feel safe there and nothing I do will make it safe enough.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t feel safe with you,” Bilbo said. “I do feel safe with you—”

“And how am I supposed to _trust_ that?!” Thorin snapped. “You _don’t_ feel safe with me. You never have.”

“Thorin—”

He pulled free, striding out the door. Bilbo leaned against the wall, stunned.

_All that out of a stupid bouquet? What’s really going on?_

Whatever it was, Bilbo decided to see if he could weed it out of Thorin when he returned.

If he returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, this chapter was going to be smut, but I couldn't write it today...so I gave angst instead. Sorry. :( More smut to come!


	13. Chapter 13

Bilbo did what he could to keep occupied while waiting for Thorin.

Read. Cleaned. Ate. Read some more.  Whatever would distract him enough…

In the end, though, concentration was hard to find and the minutes ticked by slowly.

He lied down on the couch staring at space; glasses set on the coffee table, and wondered what it was about a fucking bouquet of flowers that set him off.

 _Wouldn’t be the first time_ , Thorin had said.

Bilbo could see how others would abuse Thorin’s position as a mob boss to get something from him while pretending to love him.

Yes, Thorin was awkward and clingy. And yes, it disturbed Bilbo at first. But Thorin ended up being ridiculously sweet in the end and his clinginess had passed into the unnoticeable. His awkwardness became adorable.

 _I love you,_ Bilbo thought, closing his eyes in hopes of damming the tears. They squeezed past his lashes and trickled down his cheeks and nose. _I love you, Thorin. Please believe me._

Raps at the door called to him. Perhaps it was Thorin. Bilbo opened the door, peeking outside. Felip winked at him.

“Good evening, Bilbo,” he said. “May I come in?”

Bilbo glared at him. “No.”

“No?”

“After the stunt you pulled with the flowers, why should I let you in?” Bilbo snapped. “You’ve caused us quite a bit of trouble.”

“Thorin’s not at home, is he?” Felip guessed, quirking a brow. “Did you two fight?”

Bilbo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Goodnight.”

He closed the door and locked it, leaning against the door.

“Bilbo, I’m sorry,” Felip said. “I should have warned you about Thorin’s temper. The man has serious anger issues. You’re not hurt are you?”

Bilbo covered his ears with his hands, trying to block out whatever poison Felip might speak.

He slid to the ground, hoping he’d go away. Or that Thorin would come back and catch Felip outside the door so he can take his anger out on someone who _deserved_ it.

At last he lowered his hands and stood. No knocking came nor any calls outside the door. Bilbo hoped that meant Felip had left at last. He wasn’t going to open the door to check.

He grabbed a notepad and a pen, deciding to write a letter.

He sat on the couch, tapping the pen against the paper and chewed his lip, wondering what to say in it before placing the ball of the pen on the paper.

 

> _Thorin,_
> 
> _I don’t know what happened in your past to make you so distrustful of me. I’m not here because I want something from you, whatever it is you think I want. I came because the only thing I want is to be with you._
> 
> _I won’t apologize for the things other people did to you. That’s not my place. But I am sorry that you think I am capable of hurting you, sweetheart._
> 
> _I admit that I am hesitant to stay in Erebor and I’m sorry that makes you feel as though you aren’t enough. Thorin, if I didn’t think you were enough I probably wouldn’t have followed you this far. I wouldn’t have let you hold me if I didn’t trust you._
> 
> _I admit I am nervous around you sometimes. But other times, I completely forget that and find myself simply enjoying your company. If you are still clingy, I’ve not noticed. If you’re still awkward, it’s become adorable._
> 
> _I find myself loving you more each day. I love your smile. I love your eyes. I love the way we banter. I love the way you laugh._
> 
> _I want to know more about you. I’m still chipping past the guarded layers you’ve put up around yourself._
> 
> _Please, sweetheart, don’t close me off now. Don’t push me away._
> 
> _It breaks my heart to think you don’t trust me as much as I have come to trust you._
> 
> _Sincerely with love,_
> 
> _Bilbo_

He wiped his eyes, blinking past the tears and trying to stop them from falling on the paper.

A few slipped past and blurred the ink, but overall, when he folded the paper, it was legible and he was pleased with it.

He wrote Thorin’s name on it and put it on the table on Thorin’s side of the bed before he took a shower. Bilbo let the water beat down his back as a sort of numbness settled inside him.

 _What if he doesn’t come back?_ He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Damn it, Bilbo Baggins, pull yourself together._

He turned the water off and dried. He wiped his tears away and went to bed, eyes tired and resting, but acutely aware of every noise in the room.

Bilbo didn’t open his eyes when he heard the door open.

Nor when Thorin sat on the edge of the bed.

He tensed and at last opened them when he heard the paper crinkle as Thorin unfolded it. It felt like an age before Thorin acted.

“Bilbo? Are you awake?”

Bilbo didn’t answer, trying to relax again.

He got off the bed and Bilbo heard the rustling of clothes being discarded. The light in the bathroom turned on. Bilbo relaxed as Thorin prepared for bed.

The sheets were moved and the bed dipped under Thorin’s weight. He felt Thorin pressed against his back, an arm around his waist and nose pressed against his neck and breathing tickling his skin.

Bilbo freed his hand and laid it on top of Thorin’s and Thorin kissed his shoulder.

#

Bilbo woke slowly, hiding his head under the covers to block out the light. He shifted to lie on his back and noticed Thorin’s arm still draped over his waist.

He opened his eye just a crack and looked at Thorin. He still slept peacefully, unbothered by the light.

Bilbo turned again so to face him, memorizing Thorin’s features. He almost traced them with a finger, but resisted by gripping his pillow in a fist.

Strong jaw accompanied by strong cheekbones, a straight and elegant nose, thick eyebrows but not too thick, pink and taunting lips, faint freckles on pale skin made lighter by the darkness of his hair.

Words flitted through Bilbo’s head.

He huffed, and made to get out of bed, but the arm tightened around him.

He looked at it and tried to pry Thorin off. He turned to glare at the peaceful face only to find Thorin’s eyes open and mouth quirked in a smirk.

“How long have you been awake?” Bilbo asked.

“Around the time you started fidgeting,” Thorin said. Bilbo scowled at him.

“I didn’t fidget.”

“Yes, you did,” Thorin said, petting Bilbo’s hip and thigh. “I read your letter.”

Bilbo blushed and lowered his eyes to Thorin’s neck.

“You trust me?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “I trust you. And _yes_ , you are adorable. Deal with it.”

“I’m _not_ adorable. You understand I have blood on my hands. That negates adorable.”

“Not from what I’ve seen and I always knew you had blood on your hands. I knew from the beginning since you told me you were part of the mob. And I’d be lying if I said that didn’t terrify me sometimes, but these hands have been nothing but gentle.”

Thorin’s hand stilled over Bilbo’s hip. “And Erebor?” Bilbo lifted his eyes and met Thorin’s gaze.

“I don’t think I can ever like Erebor, Thorin, but at the very least, I have a reason to stay now, I suppose. And I can’t promise that it’ll always be like that. There will be days where I can’t fathom why I stay there. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t enough of a reason to stay.”

“And I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“So you _did_ overreact,” Bilbo said, grinning. “Glad to hear you admit it. I mean, seriously? That kind of tantrum over _flowers_?”

“It wasn’t the flowers but where they came from,” Thorin snarled. “I don’t like it when other men flirt with you.”

“Well, next time, yell at them rather than at me,” Bilbo said. “Otherwise I start to wonder what I did to set you off…I suppose you should know Felip stopped by after you left.”

Thorin tensed, his hand squeezing Bilbo’s hip.

“I had to resist slamming the door in his face,” Bilbo said, smiling at Thorin and kissing his nose. “I don’t like it when outside forces test my relationships. Especially when they’re tested like _that._ ”

“You slammed the door in his face?” Thorin asked, dumbstruck.

“No, but it was tempting. I was afraid I might break the door if I tried.”

Thorin rolled Bilbo onto his back, nudging Bilbo’s legs apart and kissing him. “God, I love you.”

Bilbo grinned, fisting Thorin’s hair. “I know,” he said, nipping his lover’s lower lip.

Thorin groaned and cupped the back of Bilbo’s neck, tilting his head up. He slid his tongue into Bilbo’s mouth. Bilbo’s hands released Thorin’s hair and gripped his shoulders instead…

Urgent knocking pulled them apart. Thorin cursed.

“Maybe if we don’t answer, they’ll go away,” he said.

More rapid knocking.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen,” Bilbo said. “But this time, _you_ answer the door.”

“Don’t get mad if someone sent me flowers,” Thorin teased.

Bilbo slapped his arm, glowering at him. Thorin grinned cheekily at him and pulled on a pair of sweat pants while Bilbo took the time to go to the bathroom.

Once relieved, he washed his hands and joined Thorin in the living room.

“What do you _mean_ you lost it?” Thorin snapped, pacing the room. “No, Fili, this is your mess, so fix it! Gundebad are firearm and drug dealers. They wouldn’t have a fucking stash of liquor. Try Mirkwood. See if one of their asshats took it. Kid, I’m giving you until I come home on Saturday to fix this! Otherwise I will tell Thrain and then there’ll be hell to pay! Yes, Fili, I’ll tell him and if your mom doesn’t bend you over her knee for this screw up, you can bet that I will! I don’t fucking care how old you are!! Find it!”

He slammed the receiver on down and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Something wrong?”

“Yes, my nephew somehow lost five thousand pounds worth of alcohol that’s supposed to go to one of our more… _elite_ clubs.”

“How does that happen?”

“Poor management, that’s how. Fucking god, I’m going to murder him!” He collapsed on the couch, massaging his temple.

Bilbo didn’t know what to do. He wanted to assure Thorin that everything would be all right, but…

_Five thousand?!_

There was very little Bilbo could do to ease his own mind about that, let alone Thorin’s, and it wasn’t even his business that was suffering.

“Would…would Bolg’s gang take advantage of this?”

“Yes,” Thorin growled. “They could use it to easily undermine Durin credibility. But that’s only considering they’re smart enough to. More likely, though, it’s Mirkwood. If we don’t figure this out _soon_ , we might…”

Thorin cut himself off.

“Might what?”

“Don’t worry about it, Bilbo. We’ll handle it. We always handle it.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but bit his lip instead.

Bilbo sat beside him. “Should we go back early?”

“No,” Thorin said, taking his hand in his. “We don’t have to go back early. I gave Fili until Saturday. That should be more than enough time for him to figure out what happened to the liquor and even a little extra to take care of whoever got sloppy.”

“I don’t like the way that sounds,” Bilbo said.

Thorin kissed his hand. “I know you don’t and I’m trying to keep you out of it as much as possible, angel. It’s just a little harder than I thought.”

Bilbo hummed and laid his head on Thorin’s tense shoulder. “You’re not going to relax any time soon, are you?”

“Sadly no,” Thorin sighed. “Would it be too early for whiskey?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “I’ll make you some tea instead,” he jumped up and went to the kitchen. “Chamomile tea. And breakfast if we have anything in the refrigerator.”

“We don’t,” Thorin said, following him. “Room service can bring it up.”

“A proper English breakfast?” Bilbo asked, quirking a brow.

“If I ask for it, then it shall be so,” Thorin said, placing his hands on Bilbo’s waist. “Just tell me what constitutes as a _proper English breakfast_ for you and it’ll be done.”

Bilbo smirked and wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck. “You will wish you never said that.”

“Perhaps, but I doubt I’ll regret it at the moment,” Thorin said, pecking his lips. “At the moment, I’m your maitre d’. Whatever you want, you will have. Except the moon.”

“Never wanted the moon anyway.”

Thorin laughed and released Bilbo. “Okay, what exactly counts as an English breakfast to you?”

Bilbo tapped his chin. “Well…”

#

Rain pounded and danced on the concrete streets. Thunder rumbled overhead as the storm picked up in its intensity, but no lightening flashed.

The lights of the Carrock Casino reflected off the rain on the other side of the man-made lake, a homing device calling for food, comfort, and fun away from the storm.

A Mercedes-Benz S-Class Sedan drove in the dark toward the line of warehouses along the pier. Standing in one of the warehouses were three burly built men, scanning the darkness for something. Or someone. The driver honked and the trio approached the car.

A window rolled down and a voice shouted: “Do you have it?”

“We have it,” the first of them answered.

The door opened the man stepped out. He was tall and lanky. Seemingly unimportant if one were to look at first, with black hair slicked back and dressed in a black suit. He buttoned his jacket and followed them into the warehouse under an umbrella and charcoal grey coat.

A smaller man followed behind him carrying an attaché. The warehouse lights turned on, making the once pitch black unit more sepia toned. It was empty save for several wood crates.

“Not sure why you wanted all this port, sir, but here you are.”

The man smirked. “Have you a crowbar?”

“Aye, Sir.” He was given one and he approached a crate. He pried the lid off and pulled out a bottle of Macallan whiskey.

“You did well,” he said, putting the bottle back.

He snapped his fingers and his assistant handed the men the attaché and a key to open it with. They thanked him and left.

“You think they’ll ever figure out the money’s fake?” the smaller man asked once they were gone.

“Doubtful,” said the taller with a smirk. “Those three Neanderthals won’t know a thing until they try to use it. Once their betrayal is made known to Azog, he won’t abide them to live. He’s not a man to cross lightly. Neither are the Durins, but of the two, Azog’s gang’s loyalties are more… _easily_ divided.”

His phone rang and he answered it.

“Hello? Yes, father. Everything is going according to plan. I know. Erebor will belong to the Dracs soon enough. Of course father. I have no intention of letting the Durins remain in power for much longer. I’ve already begun. Goodnight, father. Sleep well.”

He hung up and pocketed the phone.

“What does he want?” the assistant asked.

“Just reminding me that we’re on a schedule.” The man sighed, trying to smooth out his scowl. “He still insists on treating me like a child.”

The smaller man laughed. “Sometimes, Young Master Smaug, it’s hard to tell the difference.”

Smaug arched a brow. “Care to repeat that?”

“I mean no offense, sir, only that you’re still quite young. Your brothers didn’t dare act until they were much older.”

Smaug harrumphed. His _brothers_. Being the youngest of three didn’t give him much hope at first until his father came up with this… _competition_.

His brothers were successful in their endeavors, but Smaug was usually far more ambitious than either Scatha or Ancalagon. Erebor was a war torn city, all but abandoned by the government.

Peace was difficult to find but he would _create_ it through the violence that was sure to come.

If he succeeded, he’d be doing many people a favor in dethroning the Durins. He could then instill fear in the Mirkwood group and the Dale Mafia.

Gundebad would be harder to deal with, foolhardy as they were.

But he could perhaps strike a deal with Azog Gundebad of some sort to make him think he still had power when, in fact, he’d make those _beasts_ his pets. Azog was no better than a violent dog, after all, and dogs of all kinds crave attention.

Finding out what would keep Azog sated, though, that could be difficult.

 _One thing at a time_ , he reminded himself. _Don’t rush it. Nice and steady. They’ll destroy themselves first._

“Let’s go,” he said. “And lock this place up. I don’t want anyone finding this and alerting the Durins that their gold has been found.”

“Yes, Sir.”

They returned to the car. Thunder roared deafeningly over them and rain splattered the ground. They ran to the car and once inside, Smaug leaned back, letting his man drive him to the Carrock.

_Be steady. Be easy. Be unsuspecting. You don’t want to be known yet._

His phone rang. Smaug arched a brow. He didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“ _Smaug Drac_?” The unknown man said on the other line.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“ _Frerin Durin. Normally, my brother would be calling to welcome you to Erebor, but he’s out of town._ ”

“Well, I hope his trip goes well.”

Frerin chuckled. “ _Perhaps you would be interested in meeting with my sister and me tomorrow morning for breakfast? You must be tired from your trip. I apologize._ ”

“No, actually, I’m not tired,” Smaug said. He crossed his legs and leaned back against the leather upholstery. “I would be honored to have breakfast with you and your sister in the morning.”

“ _Wonderful! Will nine o’clock at the Lonely Mountain Café work for you?_ ”

“It does,” Smaug said.

“ _We’ll e-mail directions to your man._ ”

“Thank you.”

“ _Goodnight, Mr. Drac._ ”

“Same to you, Mr. Durin,” Smaug said. “Goodnight.” He hung up. _Perfect._

#

“Tomorrow’s our last day,” Bilbo said, massaging Thorin’s scalp.

“I’m well aware,” Thorin purred. “So I was thinking we could sail out to Atlantis tomorrow morning after we eat.”

“Oh.”

“That disappoints you?” Thorin asked, opening his eyes to look up at Bilbo.

“No, I want to go. The week just…went by quicker than I thought.”

Thorin hummed, leaning against Bilbo’s chest as Bilbo’s fingers moved from his head down to his jaw. “Did you at least have fun?” Thorin asked.

“I did,” Bilbo assured him. So much that he almost didn’t want to leave. The heat, however, he could do without, but he could compromise. He moved his fingers to Thorin’s neck. Thorin moaned, tilting his head back.

“God, your hands…”

Bilbo grinned and pressed a kiss on Thorin’s forehead. “I’d rather just sleep tonight, sweetheart.” Thorin pouted and Bilbo grinned. “Tomorrow?”

“Sure. You can help me get these ridiculous braids out of my hair before we go.”

“Why?” Bilbo asked. “I like them.”

“They’re annoying and my brother will _never_ let me live it down if he sees me with them,” Thorin said. “Have a little mercy.”

“Fine,” Bilbo said, pouting. “I’ll help you take them out tomorrow afternoon.” Thorin pulled away from Bilbo’s hands and turned to kiss him.

“Thank you, angel.”

Bilbo grinned. “And thank you for putting up with them. I still need to take a picture. For personal reasons.” Thorin laughed.


	14. Chapter 14

The waves foamed white around the yacht and tore Bilbo away from his book to watch them slosh around. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t so easily distracted...

“How many books have you read since we got here?” Thorin asked, handing him a water bottle.

“Just the one. I keep getting distracted and I have to say that’s your fault.”

Thorin grinned. “How is it _my_ fault you get distracted from your book? Or is the book trying to distract you from _me_?”

“In which case, it is failing,” Bilbo said, marking his place and closing the book. “Horribly. But if you’re the distracting one, you get full marks.”

Thorin grinned and kissed him. “Glad to be a distraction.”

“You should be ashamed,” Bilbo snapped.

Thorin laughed, throwing his head back. Bilbo grinned and reached beside him for the camera. He snapped a picture and hid the camera before Thorin noticed. He looked at Bilbo suspiciously after that, but Bilbo kissed him and asked him if they could have lunch early.

“But…beach—”

“I’d rather not get sand in my sandwiches.”

“Point proven,” Thorin said. He stood, stretching. “You’re so spoiled.”

Bilbo beamed. “I love you.”

“Acting cute will not spare you,” Thorin grumbled. “You swimming lessons will just begin an hour later than planned.”

Bilbo smirked. “Well, I’ve no complaints about prolonging the evitable.”

“You mean _inevitable_ ,” Thorin corrected. Bilbo shook his head. Thorin was going to have to drag him into the water kicking and screaming before Bilbo willingly stepped into the ocean.

“You can try.”

Thorin rolled his eyes and went to fetch the cooler. Bilbo took a look at the picture he took on the camera’s screen. For something so hastily taken, it wasn’t a bad shot. Even if the tip of Thorin’s nose had been accidentally cut off at the top. At least it was focused and captured Thorin in a mirthful pose. It made the picture worth it and the braids were noticeable.

Bilbo put the camera away and waited for Thorin to return with the cooler. He didn’t have to wait long. Thorin came out a moment later.

“All right, lunch is served,” he said. “Turkey or ham?”

“Turkey,” Bilbo said. Thorin tossed him the saran wrapped sandwich. “You’re not _really_ going to make me go swimming?”

“Just once,” Thorin said. “We won’t venture out more than your shoulders. It’s not hard once you figure it out.” He nudged Bilbo’s leg. “You’ll like it. If you don’t, I’ll drop it. Just go swimming with me, if just for a little bit.”

Bilbo took a bit and contemplated the pros and cons of letting Thorin take him swimming. He swallowed. “Fine,” he said. “ _But just this once_.”

Thorin grinned and kissed him, leaving mayonnaise residue on Bilbo’s cheek.

#

Bilbo stared at the rocks with history drawn onto their surfaces from past visitors. He almost couldn’t believe how many had come before as he climbed the rocks with Thorin.

“Do you want to draw on the rock now or later?” Thorin asked. Bilbo turned to him. Thorin smiled softly, just a slight quirk of his lips. He returned it.

“Later,” Bilbo said. “Before we leave.”

Thorin grabbed his hand. “Ready to swim?”

“It’s not been an hour yet?”

“Well, we should find a place to put our things anyway. Just in case. And you’ll need more sunscreen—”

“Hardly my fault I burn so easily.”

“We _both_ will burn if we don’t put some on.”

“It’ll just wash off,” Bilbo said.

“It’s waterproof. It won’t wash off, Angel.”

Bilbo glared at him and followed Thorin back down. He stared at the water. Why did it have to be up to his shoulders? Why not just to his waist?

Still, he promised and he was not going to break it now. He peeled his shirt off and let Thorin rub the lotion onto his back while Bilbo took care of his torso and arms. He covered his legs and feet next before helping Thorin get his own back. Thorin lifted his hair out of Bilbo’s way. Bilbo swallowed as his hands rubbed sunscreen into Thorin’s powerful back.

 _Why me?_ Bilbo thought as he spread lotion over Thorin’s broad shoulders. _How could someone so beautiful want someone as pathetic as me?_

“You’re quiet.”

“Just thinking?”

“About?”

Bilbo blinked, biting his lip. “Ice cream,” he lied, dropping his hands and rubbing the excess lotion on his neck. Thorin turned to him, frowning.

“Ice cream?”

“It’s hot out. Ice cream would be perfect,” Bilbo said with an easy grin. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“After we swim.”

“Boy, are you eager to get into cold water. But yes."

“The water isn’t cold. A few degrees cooler, yes, but not cold,” Thorin said, pulling Bilbo into the waves. The water’s coolness shocked his feet. “You’ll get used to it quickly.”

“Are you sure?” Bilbo asked, frowning. Thorin nodded, grinning up at him.

“I’m sure,” Thorin said. They were up to their knees in water now.

The mud squished between Bilbo’s toes and kelp wrapped around his ankle once when the water was up to his hips. Thorin took his hands from Bilbo’s and placed them on his hips.

“Wondering what was so terrifying yet?” Thorin said.

“Drowning, sharks, pirates. Take your pick.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Have you any idea how unlikely _any_ of those things are likely to happen?” Thorin asked. The water came up to Bilbo’s waist.

“Probably _very_ unlikely,” Bilbo said. “But they _do_ happen.”

“Bilbo, I’m not going to let anything happen to y—whoa!”  Thorin fell back, splashing into the water and under the surface. Bilbo stood, shocked.

“Thorin?” Nothing. “Thorin!”

He resurfaced, shaking water from his mane and face, grinning. “Sorry. It was a drop off.”

“Are you bloody serious?! Don’t _do_ that!”

“Bilbo, I’m fine.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack you arse!” Bilbo slapped Thorin’s chest, pushing him out and Bilbo splashed the water, losing his grip. Thorin laughed and helped him right himself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Just keep hold of my hands and kick your feet. You’ll stay afloat that way. Or would you rather I buy you floaties?”

Bilbo blushed. _Asshole_ , he thought. “I’ll manage without _floaties_ , thank you very much.” Thorin grinned. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, grabbing Bilbo’s hands again. “Trust me.”

Bilbo pouted. “What do I do, then?”

“Lean forward. I’m going to pull you out a little bit and I want you to kick your feet. Try to keep them under water. By the time we leave, I’m hoping you can manage a doggy paddle.” His grin widened.

“ _What_?”

“ _Nothing_ , just it’s a cute image,” Thorin said, chuckling. Bilbo glowered.

“You are so lucky I love you,” he growled.

Thorin laughed and pulled Bilbo out into the water.  Bilbo kicked his feet straining to keep is head up above the water. How was Thorin going to get him good enough to manage a _bloody doggy paddle_ on his own in three hours?

At least Thorin was both encouraging and patient in teaching Bilbo whose primary focus was not to panic. “Remember to breathe,” Thorin said, pulling him in another circle.

 _No, really?_ Bilbo thought, inhaling deeply.

“Ready for me to let go?”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, but you got the feet part of it down pat. You’re ready to know what you do with your hands. You’re just going to wade.”

Bilbo glared at him. “Do I have to?”

“Damn, you’re snippy today,” Thorin mumbled.

“I don’t like the idea of my feet not touching the ground,” Bilbo said.

“You’ll be fine,” Thorin sighed. He kissed Bilbo. “I’m going to let go now. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll catch you if you start to sink. Remember to kick.”

He let go of Bilbo’s hand and Bilbo fought down the wave of panic that attacked him, kicking his feet back and forth underneath him. Thorin grinned.

“See, it’s easy.”

“Well, it’s not as bad as I thought,” Bilbo admitted. “But that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

“I’ll take what I get,” Thorin said. “You’re going to cup your hands a little bit—yes, like that. And extend your arms, one at a time. You know what, keep wading and watch me.” Thorin swam a circle around Bilbo, his arms almost like propellers. He stopped in front of him and wiped his face free of water. “Better?”

“I think so,” Bilbo said.

“Then swim to me.”

“What?”

Thorin backed away. “Catch me. I’m just backing up and not very fast at that. You can catch me. So catch me and we’ll take a break.”

Bilbo gave an experimental paddle and Thorin stepped back again, encouraging Bilbo on and also annoying him. Bilbo’s legs and arms ached and his stomach clenched involuntarily. He was aware that he was hungry again and at the same time he wasn’t.

Thorin turned and Bilbo glared at him as he readjusted so he could catch him, but Thorin stepped just out of reach again, egging him on. Bilbo grew more and more agitated with Thorin and propelled a little too fast, his face bumping into Thorin’s chest. Thorin grabbed his shoulders.

“Good work,” he said. “How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s fine,” Bilbo said, rolling the shoulder with ease.

It twinged a little bit, but otherwise, it was fine. He followed Thorin back to shore, scraping his shin on the edge of the drop off. It stung, but it wasn’t that bad. Or so he thought until he was out of the water. The skin was red and slightly scraped. He sat on the towel Thorin took out and let Thorin examine it.

“I really feel fine,” Bilbo said. “Is it really that bad?”

“I’ve seen worse,” Thorin sighed, lying on the towel and putting his sunglasses on. “I’ve _had_ worse.”

“Then why were you freaking out so much?”

“Because you’re precious to me and I hate seeing you hurt.”

Bilbo blushed. “Sap,” he said, lying on his side. The sun’s heat was drying his skin and the warmth was quite welcome. He kissed Thorin’s lips and moved down to his chest, tasting the sea on his lover’s skin, nipping at a pearled nipple.

Thorin chuckled. “I wasn’t aware you were an exhibitionist.”

Bilbo got off him. “I’m not. Usually.”

Thorin smirked and lifted the sunglasses up off his face to look at Bilbo. “Really? Is there something I should know about?”

“College.”

“Ah. The one word that explains everything.”

“You’ve no idea,” Bilbo agreed, kissing Thorin’s chest again. _Okay, Baggins, you have to stop before something unwanted happens. Like voyeurs._ He straightened. “But those days are, I hope, behind me.”

“Pity.”

“Oh, you’d like to be caught in a place where anyone and their mother might find us.”

“I could find us a nice cave.”

“How long do we have until the boat comes back?”

Thorin checked his watch. “A little less than two hours.”

“Do you think that’s enough time?”

“Well, maybe not for all I want to do, but I wouldn’t mind giving head. Or getting head.”

Bilbo shook his head. “Maybe when we’re back at the hotel.”

“Fine. Up to you. You swam with me so it’s up to you what we do next while waiting for the boat,” Thorin said. He propped himself up on his elbows. “Though, I haven’t seen anyone around here for the last few minutes.”

“The place is crawling with people if you look,” Bilbo said. “At the hotel. After we shower.”

“Damn,” Thorin said. “Excellent point.”

“Don’t you love it when that happens?”

“Having a good point? Yes. But only when I come up with them. When it’s someone else, they tend to be less appealing. When it’s you, I’m backed in a corner and can’t get out. Fuck, Bilbo, when did I become your bitch?”

Bilbo laughed. “I think you set yourself up to become my bitch from the beginning.”

Thorin pouted, eyes going wide. “But…”

Bilbo laughed some more. “Don’t worry,” he said, patting Thorin’s shoulder. “I will use my powers wisely.” Thorin rolled his eyes and sat up, biting Bilbo’s nose. Bilbo yelped and backed away into the sand. “What was that for?”

“Not sure.”

“Thorin, don’t be an ass,” Bilbo said, rubbing the offended nose.

“I fail to see how biting your nose equates with being an ass.” Bilbo tossed sand at him. “Oi! Not on the towel!” Thorin snapped.

“I fail to see how a little more sand on the towel is going to change anything,” Bilbo retorted.

Thorin stood on his knees and grabbed Bilbo’s ankles, pulling him closer. Bilbo screeched and tried to escape when Thorin began tickling the soles of his feet.

“Surrender!”

“Ne-never!” 

Bilbo slammed his free foot into Thorin’s arm and pulled his foot away, scrambling to his feet. Thorin stood and caught Bilbo around the waist, lifting him into the air and carried him to the water.

“Thorin! I swear to God, I will do you grievous bodily harm if you do not put me down right now—ack!”

Bilbo felt mud on his hands, rump and feet where Thorin dumped him into the water. A little salt water got into his mouth and he sputtered.

Thorin laughed, a maniacal grin on his face. Bilbo stood and raced at him, managing to shove Thorin back into the water, but unable to stop him from pulling Bilbo down with him. Bilbo screamed again, landing in Thorin’s lap. Thorin wiped a muddy hand on Bilbo’s cheek.

“You are such a brat!” Bilbo didn’t know if he was trying to shout or laugh. It came out as both. And maturity was up in the air as he splattered some mud on Thorin’s torso.

“Oh, I’m a brat?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. He shoved Thorin down and jumped off him, laughing madly and running as fast as he could as Thorin scrambled to his feet and raced after him, vowing vengeance on Bilbo’s head.

#

The boat returned just as they had dried off again from their impromptu mud-fight. Bilbo was eager to get back and take a shower. A dip in the ocean would only get so much off. His skin felt dry and his hair was a mess—Thorin’s hair was worse. At the hotel, they took separate showers, washing thoroughly. After which, Bilbo donned fresh underwear and helped Thorin take the braids out, little by little and combing out the tangles.

It was dark by the time the last braid was undone and Thorin’s hair was as silky as usual.

Bilbo kissed his shoulder, brushing Thorin’s hair over the other to get at his neck. Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s hand and kissed it.

“Do you still want to have sex?” Thorin asked.

“Depends,” Bilbo said. “Do you not?”

“I do,” Thorin assured him, turning to face him. “But only if you do. I know today was tiring.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I’m younger than you.”

“And?”

Bilbo lied down, hooking his thumbs under the waistband and pushed them down. Thorin’s eyes roamed Bilbo’s body, eyes widening and the pupils darkening.

“And I’m rather insatiable tonight.”

Thorin’s eyes snapped back up to Bilbo. “Really?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“See for yourself,” Bilbo teased, spreading his legs and gripping the base of his cock and slowly pumped it. Thorin’s nostrils flared as Bilbo flicked his thumb over the sensitive head.

Thorin stood, reaching for the lube and condoms. He stripped out of his shorts and climbed back up. He squeezed lube into his hand and spread the viscous liquid over them. He gripped Bilbo’s hips and lifted them up, placing Bilbo’s legs on either side of his head. Bilbo whimpered at the deft lick to his rear, grabbing the headboard as Thorin’s hand reached around and curled around his cock, a tighter grip, a slightly rougher pull.

Bilbo moaned and the heat in his abdomen built. “Thorin, I’m going to come.”

Thorin shoved his tongue inside him and quickened his pace. Bilbo clenched around the muscle and Thorin spread a bead of precum around the head as his climax peaked and exploded. Thorin pulled his tongue out, licking the twitching hole soothingly as his hand stroked Bilbo’s sensitive cock carefully.

“I believe someone said they were insatiable tonight,” Thorin growled. “Let’s see how many times I can make you come before you say you’ve had enough.” Bilbo shivered as Thorin lowered him back down, licking him clean. He nipped Bilbo’s nipples and sucked. Bilbo grabbed fistfuls of Thorin’s hair, arching his back and licking his lips. Thorin rolled his hips against Bilbo’s groin. He climbed off, grabbing condom and put it on. “Turn over,” Thorin said. “On your knees.”

Bilbo obeyed, hiding his face in his arms. Thorin pressed a finger into his hole and Bilbo smirked, glad he decided to be thorough in the shower. Thorin worked in a second finger easily. The third needed a little more time. The fingers wiggled around, probing, seeking…Bilbo’s vision flashed and he spread his legs wider, rolling his hips down on Thorin’s fingers. Thorin stilled, swearing under his breath, and watched Bilbo.

“You weren’t kidding about feeling wanton tonight.”

Bilbo chuckled, “You’re going too slow for my liking.”

“Do you want me to hurt you?”

“More like I’m daring you to try,” Bilbo purred, smirking at Thorin’s shocked expression. Thorin growled and pulled his hand away, squeezing more lube into his hand and stroked his cock. Bilbo’s penis twitched in an effort to awaken. Thorin spread the cheeks and shoved in brutally.Bilbo screamed, back arching.

Thorin rolled his hips slowly, easing the pain away. Once it did, Bilbo gasped and moaned, Thorin’s name ghosting on his lips. Thorin quickened his pace then slowed again before building back up. Bilbo’s cock bounced against his abdomen, awake and waiting. Bilbo arched his back, trying to get some stimulation…Thorin chuckled and gripped the head.

“Come for me, Angel. Come for me again.” Bilbo whimpered as Thorin stroked his cock. Fire stoked, burning, eager…Bilbo gripped Thorin’s shoulders as another wave hit him. He fell back, limp, panting, and sweaty. Thorin pulled out and removed the condom, still rock hard. Weak limbed, though he was, Bilbo crawled up and grabbed the base of Thorin’s cock, swallowing him down, he cupped Thorin’s bollocks in his free hand and lapped at the head. Thorin pulled him off. “Just a minute,” Thorin said. He lay on his back. “Should be easier.”

Bilbo purred lying between Thorin’s legs and kissed his length. He swallowed the head and hummed. Thorin threaded his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, encouraging him to take as much as he was able. Bilbo gently scraped his teeth over the foreskin and dragged his tongue around along the underside of the cock, sometimes pressing it into Thorin’s slit, tasting him. He cupped Thorin’s bollocks again, humming and sucking. His cum filled Bilbo’s mouth and he swallowed. Thorin shuddered and his hand fell away. He stood up and lifted Bilbo up, carrying him into the bathtub.

“This week went by too fast,” Bilbo complained.

“I could ask Balin to give the school a two week Spring break.”

“They get a three week Christmas break. They’re spoiled enough,” Bilbo said, leaning against Thorin’s chest. “They don’t need another week. Besides. That extra week means a longer school year. It’d be late June by the time we got out.”

“Ah. True. That’s a pity.”

“Yes, it is,” Bilbo said, closing his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep yet.”

“Whose fault is that?”

Thorin chuckled and kissed Bilbo’s cheek. “I love you, Bilbo,” he whispered. Bilbo hummed, too tired to really respond.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for posting this late. The last couple days have been difficult due to quitting a job I couldn’t feasibly do and coming down with a rather nasty cold. Anyway, here’s a chapter for you.

Bilbo stared at the bouquet of purple and orange roses set on his desk. Perhaps the oddest bouquet he’d ever seen, but there it was sitting on his desk. Bilbo searched for a card. He doubted they came from Thorin, but perhaps they did. He found it. He opened the card and sighed, shoulders drooping.

_I’m not giving up just yet. ~Kili_

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose.

 _You fool,_ he thought. He took the flowers and headed to Balin’s office. He knocked on the door and waited. Balin poked his head outside.

“Bilbo! Did you enjoy your break?”

“I did,” Bilbo said. “I’ve got a slight problem, though. Perhaps you might be able to help me find a solution?”

“Of course,” Balin swung the door open. “Come in.”

Bilbo stepped inside, flowers in hand. “Did you see Kili here earlier?”

“No. Why?”

He held them up. “Somehow he broke into my classroom and left these on my desk.”

“Well, in a couple months, would it matter?” Balin asked. “The lad is quite fond of you.”

“Fond or not, it _does_ matter. I’m dating someone—”

“His uncle,” Balin said. “Yes, I’m well aware you ran off with Thorin for the week.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened and his head buzzed as anxiety rushed through him. “How did you—”

“Dwalin told me.”

“Oh…right,” Bilbo blushed. He rubbed his cheek. “Anyway, I don’t intend to choose between them. I’ve already made my choice. I have told Kili that I’m dating someone, but I’ve not told him who.”

“Would knowing who you were dating help him?”

“I’m not sure.”

Balin hummed. “If I know the Durins—and I do—they are the most stubborn, blockheaded fools in the entire city. They can be bold, awkward, and frightening but they are also passionate. They do not give up easily. Telling Kili that you’re dating someone will break his heart, but not deter him. Thorin is the same way. You might know that already since you’re already in a relationship with him.”

Bilbo nodded. He did. By _God_ he did.

“All I can really tell you is that Kili isn’t going to accept that you’re already dating someone easily, even if that someone is his uncle.”

“Well, whatever I do, I cannot keep these,” Bilbo said.

Balin took them from him. “Interesting color choice,” he said. “Boy can’t coordinate for his life.”

“No. He can’t.”

“Well, I’ll see what I can do with these. I know a few ladies around who might like a flower to brighten their day.” Balin winked and Bilbo chuckled, unsure how to translate the gesture.

“Thank you, Balin. Say hello to those ladies for me.”

Balin laughed and Bilbo went back to class.

Students were already showing up and meandering in the hall, sharing stories about their break and laughing. A few greeted him and Bilbo would respond back. He entered his room again and began setting up. Whether or not Kili showed up today, this constant… _pining_ was not going to be tolerated. Kili was a good kid, but Bilbo didn’t see him as anything else.

“Mr. Boggins?”

 _Speak of the devil_ , Bilbo thought.

Kili leaned against the door, biting his lip. “Can I…can I speak with you alone for a minute?”

Bilbo blinked, frowning. “I suppose so, but you’ve only got a few minutes. Class begins soon.”

Kili stepped further into the room and took a breath. “I know you’re dating my uncle,” he said.

Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat, but other than arching an eyebrow, he did not betray how nervous he felt. “I see. Your family’s connections shouldn’t surprise me, I suppose. I doubt Thorin’s told his father yet.”

Kili shrugged. “Gramps doesn’t particularly care. He stopped caring after Fili was born. So long as there was _a_ grandkid, he’d be happy. He’s long gotten over that my uncle’s gay, especially since it didn’t stop my uncle from becoming one of the most ruthless mobsters in Erebor.”

“Kili, you’re uncle and I have an understanding. I am well aware of what he does—”

“So you know how many lives he’s taken all for the sake of Durin? The lives he’s taken? The deaths he’s caused?” Kili huffed when Bilbo didn’t answer. “So he never told you anything concerning his life before?”

“I know how he received his nickname.”

“That was ages ago. I’m talking about the drug dealing and the money laundering and the torturing. I’m talking about the times he’s lost his temper so bad, he and Frerin went on a murder spree in Gundebad, taking down not just some of the Gundebad gangsters, but also innocent civilians who just got caught in the crossfire. You think he _cared_?”

“Stop,” Bilbo hissed. His nails dug into his palms and His shoulders shook. He knew Thorin might have done terrible things. Yet he didn’t want to know the details. If he knew the details, he wouldn’t be able to go further and again Thorin would suffer another broken heart. Bilbo couldn’t do that to him. He wouldn’t. But it was enough. He had enough doubt to begin with. He didn’t need more. And here was more. Aside from whether Kili spoke the truth or not, it was…

“Yes, I am dating your uncle,” he continued. “Life is going to be full of disappointments. Get used to it. I admire that you don’t want to follow the same road your family took and I am willing to help you get to where you want to be. However, I have several reasons to _not_ fall in love with you. All can fall under the category of maturity. For God’s sake, how do you think that _slander_ is going to change my mind?! You’re eighteen years old, Kili. I would expect someone of your age to know better!”

Kili hunched his shoulders, gripping his backpack’s straps so tightly, his knuckles were white.

Bilbo sighed, running a shaking hand through his hair. “Go to your seat. Don’t test me today. Don’t talk to me. Just…behave. For once _behave_.”

Kili walked by him and the door opened. Bilbo took another deep breath and smoothed his features into something neutral, pushing his doubts deep down until he could discuss them with Thorin.

 _It’s going to be a long day_ , Bilbo thought as he called out attendance.

#

“That much alcohol doesn’t just disappear, Fili!” Thorin bellowed.

“And we’re still looking, but we’ve yet to cover the whole of our territory, let alone Mirkwood’s,” Fili replied, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice as he stood before the Trio. He kept try to get his mother to meet his eye, hoping she’d convince his uncles to lighten whatever sentence they chose. It’d not be good. He was too old to be spared their wrath. Right now, he wasn’t Thorin’s nephew or Dis’ son. He was their employee and they were unforgiving employers.

“I have as many men I can spare searching for our product,” he continued. “It’s bound to show up.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Frerin asked calmly. Fili cringed, looking at his younger uncle. Where Thorin was fire, Frerin was usually ice. Fili didn’t know what to say. What would happen to him if the alcohol was never found? What would he do then?

Dis cleared her throat. “Fili, have you spoken with the delivery man?”

“I have,” he said. “He won’t talk. He might be telling the truth.”

“They never are,” Dis said with a sigh. She stood. “You’re men are brutes, sweetie. They are good for a war only, they aren’t skilled in interrogation.”

Thorin arched a brow. “Dis, I do not want you swooping in again—”

“If you ever have a child of your own, Thorin, you’ll understand,” she said, smirking at her brothers. “Come along, Fili. I’ll show you how interrogations _really_ work.”

Thorin growled when the door closed.

“Mama to the rescue again,” Frerin joked. “She really needs to stop that. The boys will never get anything done if they keep relying on Dis to save their asses. Now, how was your week? Is your new boyfriend as good as you hoped?”

“Don’t be so crude,” Thorin hissed.

“And you need to lighten up. Fili will find it.” He stood. “Now, we have two choices: we can go watch Dis work her magic or we can go meet with Smaug for lunch.”

Thorin wrinkled his nose. Smaug Drac. The Dracs were a vicious family and had quickly expanded their territory over the last decade. Whatever the youngest brother of that family was doing here, it wasn’t good. Thorin doubted that his appearance so soon after the port went missing was a coincidence. It couldn’t be.

“Dis doesn’t need an audience. She’ll just drag it out with her artistry,” Thorin said. “Besides,” he smirked at his brother. “I want to know why a Drac would be in Erebor.”

“I’m just as curious as you are, but Mr. Drac is quite the wordsmith. He’s been horribly cryptic. It’ll take ages for me to gain enough of his trust to get even an idea of what he’s doing here. At least he’s narcissistic. We can play on that.”

Thorin laughed, following Frerin out of the office. “True, but I’m not kissing ass to get answers. This time, you do it. I’m taken.”

“Well that would require that Smaug have breasts. I’m quite sure he doesn’t and his voice is far too deep for my liking.”

“Well, Dis is taken and I’m pretty sure Víli would just kill us if we convinced her to seduce Smaug…”

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to do it for us, Thorin?”

Thorin glared at him. “Just because I’m _gay_ doesn’t mean I’ll fuck any man.”

Frerin shrugged. “I know, but you used to have a ‘take one of the team mentality,’” he said. “What happened to it?”

“It ran off when I met Bilbo,” Thorin said, a soft smile gracing his lips. Frerin arched a brow. “What?”

“ _It ran off when I met Bilbo_?” he parroted. “Fuck, you really _do_ have it bad. Nearly as bad as Dis did when Dad assigned Víli to her.”

“That wasn’t love at first sight, brother mine,” Thorin reminded him. “Don’t you remember how many fucking times they broke something in their fights before they _finally_ getting over their differences?”

“You mean finally having hot angry sex in your room?” Frerin asked smirking.

Thorin flipped him off. That minor detail he’d rather forget. He had the sheets, pillows, mattress, and bed frame burned and replaced after that. And barred Dis from his room. They also proved that one time is all it takes when Dis became pregnant with Fili…

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out. Bilbo. Thorin grinned.

“Dear God, you’re smiling. You never smile. Is it Bilbo? If so, when do I meet him? Can I plan the wedding?”

“Shove off! Be useful and get the car.”

Frerin scoffed. “You’re no fun,” he snapped, but did as Thorin asked while Thorin opened the message.

> _Can we meet after school? Something happened and I really need to talk._

Thorin frowned, typing a quick message in return:

> _Of course. I’ll meet you there._

He entered the garage when he received a reply:

> _No. At home would be better._

Thorin’s frown deepened, wondering what had happened that would rile Bilbo so much?

“You’re brooding again? He didn’t break up with you via text, did he?” Frerin asked, looking over his shoulder.

Thorin put his phone away. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“The last one did.”

Thorin glowered at him. “Can we _not_ discuss my love life? How about we discuss yours for a change? Or the lack thereof—”

“Fuck you, Thorin.”

Thorin smirked. “Don’t be mad because Dis is married and I may have found—”

“If you say ‘the love of my life’ I will break your nose.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Then stop asking so much about my love life and I’ll stop teasing you about yours,” he said, entering a black Mercedes.

“You know that spring party Dad likes to host?”

“Yes?”

“Bring Bilbo.”

“ _Frerin_.”

“You’ll have to introduce him eventually. Might as well do it then.”

“I thought we agreed you’d drop this.”

“I am dropping it. But I’m also suggesting that you make a move to solidify that you’ve found the man you want to spend your life with. If he makes you happy, then that’s all that matters. But I don’t want to see you heartbroken again. I’m really hoping it works out this time because, Thorin, I’m tired of hunting down the guys who keep hurting you.”

Thorin arched a brow at him. “I never asked you to do that.”

“Someone has to do it,” Frerin said with a shrug. “You’re one of the most loving guys I know and you deserve to have someone with whom you can share your life with. Someone you can escape to because I know this life sometimes gets you down. It gets _me_ down from time to time. It gets Dis down from time to time. We have our moments, but we are still family and if Bilbo is really this important to you, I want to like him. I want to believe that he is who you think he is. But you’ve had too many hits and misses and I’m worried, okay? I’ve never seen you this smitten over someone and…”

Thorin clapped his shoulder. “Thank you, Frerin. I’ll talk to him. But if he doesn’t want to go to the party, I won’t force him. Can you respect that?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I want to focus on Smaug for now,” he said, pulling his phone out again to let Bilbo know he didn’t mind meeting at home instead.

#

Smaug was quite tall. His black hair fell to his shoulders and his dark eyes bore a hint of shrewd malice coupled with the dark smirk lighting his eyes. He stood when Thorin and Frerin approached.

“Frerin, wonderful to meet you again.”

“Same here,” he said, dropping Smaug’s hand.

Smaug turned to Thorin offering his hand to him. Thorin gripped his hand. “I apologize for not being here when you arrived, Mr. Drac.”

“Out of town, I heard. Business trip?”

“Pleasure, actually,” Thorin said, taking a seat.

“Well, I hope it was a nice reprieve.”

“It was. Thank you.”

“May I ask where your sister is?”

“Work,” Frerin said with a shrug. “Couldn’t get away, I’m afraid.”

Smaug hummed. “Send her my regards.”

“We will,” Frerin said. “I was just telling Thorin about why you were visiting our lovely city. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you want to merge our families?”

“Not quite merge, but form an alliance. Much like what you have done with Mirkwood and Dale. I’m sure another ally against Azog would not go remiss.”

“We manage,” Thorin said.

“Yet the casualties rise every year,” Smaug said. Thorin tensed, remembering Bilbo’s reluctance to stay. If the deaths were that bad, then Thorin couldn’t blame his desire to leave Erebor. Hell, if anyone were to threaten Bilbo’s life…

_Don’t think on it._

“Perhaps having another, stronger alliance would discourage their violence. And as for the other two…Mirkwood and Dale are just as volatile. Didn’t you have to get involved to stop a turf war between Thranduil’s and Bard’s brats?”

“Thorin did, yes. That war was taking place too close to the school our nephew attends,” Frerin said.

Smaug arched a brow, glancing at Thorin. “Yet it was Thorin, not Dis, who put a stop to that war.”

“If you have something to say, I would prefer that you say it directly.”

Smaug chuckled. “I’m just wondering about the connection between you and a certain English teacher. Don’t be alarmed, my connections are vast. I have nothing against your sexuality and your reputation speaks for itself, Oakenshield. You are not a man to cross and I do not intend to. To add, he’s quite cute for a man I suppose…It’s not my preference, personally.”

“Thank you,” Thorin said, unsure if he really did feel grateful. He didn’t feel as though there was an insult in Smaug’s words, but at the same time, there was a bit of a condescending bite.

Smaug nodded. “Perhaps, gentlemen, we should eat?”

“Indeed,” Frerin said, picking up a menu. “I don’t know about Thorin, but I’m starving.” He winked at Smaug. Thorin picked up his own menu.

 _Alliance my arse,_ he thought, glancing at Smaug over the plastic covered paper. _What are you really up to? What brought you to Erebor?_

His phone alerted him to another text and he excused himself.

> _Done with the delivery man._ _Gundebad took the port. Arranging a parley with Bolg and Azog. Will be going with Dad. Enjoy your lunch. – Dis_

Thorin sneered. Gundebad was arms and drugs. They didn’t care for fine liquor the same way Mirkwood did. He put his phone away.

 _Better Gundebad than Mirkwood, anyway_ , he thought, returning to the table. “That was Dis. She got called into an important meeting. I’m afraid she won’t be able to join us.”

“What a pity,” Smaug sighed. “Your sister’s quite refreshing. I like her bite.”

Frerin and Thorin exchanged a glance. “Her husband would be glad to hear you appreciate Dis’ wit,” Thorin said.

“As would her sons,” Frerin added.

Smaug chuckled. “You needn’t threaten me,” he said. “It’s just a compliment. I wouldn’t want to cross Víli any more than I would the two of you.”

“Good,” Frerin said. “I think I’ll have the steak."

#

Bilbo slung his bag over his shoulder. He’d been right. It was a long day and he was eager to go home. He was given two raps before the door opened and Kili stepped inside. He leaned against the wall, head downcast.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am sorry, but…it hurts, you know.”

“And that makes it okay to say such terrible things? About your _uncle_ , no less?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Bilbo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He lowered his hand, shaking his head as the silence grew, swallowing them whole. “Kili, I love Thorin," he said. "I admit I’m walking blindly into this relationship, but I chose it. Thorin is aware that I don’t want to know about his past or what he does. He’s a Mafioso. That’s all I need to know. If I know anything else and I lose whatever resolve I have and I have enough doubt about why I chose this anyway. You aren’t making it easy what with your behavior.”

“But _I_ love you,” Kili said. “I’ve known you longer than him, adored you longer…” he bit his lip, bowing his head. “I love you.”

Bilbo shook his head. “Kili, you really are _not_ the first student to ever have a crush on their teacher. You’ll grow out of it. You’ll find someone who can love you for who you are. But it’s not going to be me.”

Kili’s breath hitched and he stared at his feet. Bilbo guided him out, leading him to the main doors and into the parking lot. A black van cut them off and three figures jumped out, grabbing Kili.

“Bilbo run!” he shouted as a cloth was placed over his mouth. Bilbo turned and ran back toward the school, but an arm wrapped around his torso and a cloth was placed over his head. He tried to scream.

Then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> orange roses mean enthusiasm and desire, usually conveying a double meaning that is both subtle and bold. Purple and lilac roses convey love at first sight with a desired reaction of enchantment, desire, and caution. They can look sort of nice if combined correctly…
> 
> http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/1c/cd/62/1ccd62300691ae4c9600148aab022f14.jpg 
> 
> Side note: I like Frerin. He’s adorable.
> 
> Quick! Who do you think is behind the kidnapping?!  
> -Dale  
> -Mirkwood  
> -Gundebad  
> -Drac  
> -Other (including combinations of any of the above)


	16. Chapter 16

_Where am I?_

Everything felt heavy. Bilbo blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the light. He sat on a metal chair. His hands were bound behind him and his ankles were bound as well. The room was dark, lit only by an overhead light that had a tendency to flicker. There was a door and another chair propped against the wall, but otherwise, the room was completely bare. Bilbo tried to look behind him, scraping the chair against the wall.

“Ack! Don’t do that! God, my head…”

“Kili?” Bilbo gasped.

“Bilbo! I told you to run.”

“Not my fault whoever caught us is faster than I,” Bilbo muttered. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know. Could be anywhere in the city,” Kili said. “God fucking damn it!”

Bilbo winced. “Kili?”

“I’m fine. It’s just been a while since things were bad enough to warrant kidnappings. Damn, it better be Thranduil or Bard.”

“Let’s hope it is, then,” Bilbo said.

“We’ll be okay.”

“That I doubt, but thank you anyway.”

The door opened and a man in a black suit and pinstripe shirt stepped in. His black hair was slicked back and his hands were stuffed in his pockets. He was quite handsome, Bilbo could admit. But there was a stoicism that Bilbo didn’t quite like. “Kili, how are you?”

“Good,” Kili said. “What’s going on, Bard?”

“Three thousand quid went missing from our profits,” Bard said, pulling the spare chair over to Kili. “Three thousand pounds of weaponry just disappeared and a bird sang a song about how the Durins were behind it.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Kili said. “I don’t like what my family does. You’d have a better chance getting an answer from someone else—”

“No, I know. This is just a temporary arrangement until I get my product back. You’ll get to go home as soon as your family returns what’s mine.”

“Let me guess,” Bilbo said. “I’m just a witness you don’t want talking?”

“Actually, you’re extra incentive,” Bard said. Bilbo didn’t like how that sounded. “Kili’s enough to get Dis on board, but not his uncles. Being Thorin Oakenshield’s new boy toy has a few perks doesn’t it? Did you enjoy your time in Ibiza? Bet you did. It’s a nice place. Sadly, there are also some downsides to banging someone as powerful as Oakenshield. What those downsides are, well, you can tell. Luckily for you, Thorin’s out of this world crazy about you. If he learns that both his favorite nephew _and_ new lover are missing, then he’ll act.”

“There’s a slight problem with your theory,” Bilbo said, “The Durins have been robbed too. I don’t know who, but they lost five thousand quid worth of alcohol while I was away with Thorin.”

“You wouldn’t know that,” Bard said.

“But I would,” Kili said. “It’s true. My brother’s the one in charge of that shipment and it disappeared. He’s been freaking out and today he was facing a review with our mom and uncles. Last I checked, they weren’t using underhanded methods to get answers.”

“Underhanded?” Bard said. “Is it underhanded when security cameras can place three of _your_ family’s men driving off with _my_ merchandise?”

“I know nothing about that,” Kili said.

“Of course not,” Bard said. “That would be because _you_ are not starting at the bottom of the ring, Little Sniper.”

Bilbo tried to turn around, chilled. “Sniper?” he asked.

Bard arched a brow. “You’re dating Thorin and you didn’t know that his family’s been grooming this kid to be an assassin since he was old enough to hold a gun?” He asked. “Kid’s a prodigy with a rifle. Makes it cheaper, too, using someone already in your fold so high up. Did you know the kid’s got blood on his hands already?”

“Please, stop,” Kili mumbled pathetically.

“You’re one to talk,” Bilbo snarled. “Just a few weeks ago, your _daughter_ was holding shoot outs at the school!”

“It was a war. Had the Durins not stepped in, it would’ve died down.”

“They’re _children_ ,” Bilbo snarled. “Does that even mean anything to you bastards? Let me guess: start them young, make them soldiers now. It’s _sick_.”

Bard stood. “And what would an outsider know of how we run things in Erebor? You’ve barely been here even a year, the only reason you’re still breathing is due to that Oakenshield is too big of an enemy to dare attempt crossing. You are mistaken if you think these _children_ can even hope to live a real life,” Bard pinched Bilbo’s cheeks. “You also have no right to tell others how to raise their children.”

Bilbo had no answer for that. He wished he did, but what would he say? He didn’t have the right to tell them how to raise their children. And yet, anyone could tell that this life was already damaging them. Bilbo tried not to shudder when he remembered that Thorin grew up in the mafia. 

As did Bolg and he wondered:

Did Bard?

If it was all they knew, then he could understand a little bit even if he would never condone. They were sad and pathetic.

“Maybe I don’t,” he said. “But I am a teacher and I am concerned for them. For you it’s normal, but the truth is, raising a child in the mafia is _not_ normal. I’d say cruel, too, but regardless what Kili’s done in his past, he’s a good kid and he wants out and I will help him get out if I can. If your daughter came to me with the same plea, I would help her as well. I’d help anyone who wanted out because _this life_ you have raised them in is destructive. I think you know that. And if I’m right, how in God’s name could you live with yourself knowing that this life is wrong?” Bard let him go. “Or is it you weren’t aware how abnormal this life is?” Bilbo continued. “You didn’t know any other life and so it became the only life your children knew as well?”

“You know nothing.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I do know this town is screwed all the way to hell and it’s because of parents like you and Dis that are keeping it from moving forward. I can’t do as adequately a job as I’d like because of how _damaged_ so many of these kids are. Kili has blood on his hands? He’s _eighteen_! He shouldn’t have anything on his hands except worrying about his college entry exams! His nightmares should be about showing up to school without his pants! Not about the last person he killed!” Bilbo took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

Bard crossed his arms, glaring at Bilbo, who returned it. “Enjoy your stay while it’s still comfortable,” Bard said, leaving to room.

Bilbo winced at the slammed door and he leaned back as comfortably as he could. “That didn’t go well.”

“You just told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Kili said. “You got lucky, Mr. Boggins.”

“Back to _Boggins_ , is it?”

Kili chuckled. “I’ve newfound respect for you so _yes_ , it’s ‘Mr. Boggins’ again. You know, it wasn’t _all_ bad.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have been forced to kill anyone.”

“No, but at the time, I didn’t know better. Then I overheard my mum yelling at my grandfather and my eyes were…opened, I guess. I didn’t have to kill again since the one time. I got over it.”

“It wasn’t something you should have gotten over at all, Kili. Taking a life…that’s more than you ever should have to shoulder.” Kili coughed and Bilbo stared at the door. He lowered his gaze to his lap. “You think we’ll get out of here?”

“Possibly,” Kili said. “Though it’s likely that by the time we figure out how to get out of here, the door will swing open and you’ll have my very pissed off, volatile mother standing in the doorway toting a rifle and a few extra grenades.”

“Seriously?”

“No, that’s just an exaggeration.”

Bilbo chuckled. “I see the point. I’ll keep in mind that your mother is not someone I would want to cross.”

“No. She’s not,” Kili agreed. They delved into another silence. “Why my uncle?”

“What do you mean?”

He heard Kili shift. “I just…I want to understand why you chose him. I thought I’d been rather obvious with how I felt and Thorin can be a bit…creepy around the people he falls in love with.”

“I noticed that,” Bilbo said. “Hard not to, but I guess I just got a little tired of seeing him look so much like a kicked puppy each time I told him I wasn’t interested. He made me smile and made me forget what this city is really like. He was creepy, or so I thought, but I think he just…comes on too strong when he finds someone he happens to like romantically. He doesn’t mean to and he’s aware that he does it, but once he tones it down and allows the other person time to breathe, well, he can be quite sweet.”

“He has a temper.”

“I know and while I prefer it not directed at me, he seems to have a good grip on it. Your uncle’s been hurt in the past, Kili. Comes with the territory, but I suppose being wealthy as well as dangerous…people take the risk or are too afraid to tell him no despite how genuine his feelings are for them.”

“You weren’t afraid, I guess?”

“At first I was, but it was less of his ire than getting involved. I had planned to leave Erebor as soon as the year ended and I knew getting involved with someone would give me a reason to stay which was something I didn’t want. He tried to respect that, but we sort of…made it difficult for each other. Not intentionally, of course. We just kept running into each other. In the end, I gave in and agreed to date him. I don’t know when I fell in love with him.” Kili didn’t respond. No further questions came, nor statements. Bilbo wished he could adequately adjust his posture. His limbs felt stiff. “Kili?”

“M’fine,” he mumbled. “Just…can we not talk about it actually? I…” His voice cracked and Bilbo closed his eyes.

 _I’m an idiot_ , Bilbo thought. “Okay,” he said. Bilbo winced as the plastic binds cut into his skin when he tried to move. “We won’t talk about it.”

_We won’t talk about it for now. But one day, we will have to._

#

“You had _no_ right to take them!” Thorin bellowed into the receiver.

“ _Two Durins stole from me,_ ” Bard shot back. “ _Unless the money is paid or I get my ammo back, you aren’t seeing your lover or your nephew again!_ ”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose and growled. “We were recently robbed as well. By Gundebad.”

“ _And that’s supposed to shock me?_ ”

“If one of our people did steal your supplies, then the Durin Family is willing to cooperate,” Thorin said, returning to his desk. “ _On_ Kili’s and Bilbo’s return.”

Bard laughed. “ _Thorin, we both know how this works. At the very least, find who stole my ammo and bring them to me. Then you can have them back._ ”

Thorin slammed the phone on the receiver. His knuckles turned white as he gripped at his desk, gnashing is teeth. He closed his eyes. Dis was already searching for Kili and Bilbo, leaving Thorin to negotiate as best he could. They needed Frerin for negotiations, but he was still working to charm Smaug and could not be spared. Thorin wished otherwise, but there was little he could go do at this point.

He took a few deep breaths. He should have gone to pick Bilbo up anyway. Perhaps then, he’d manage to keep both him and Kili safe and this would never have happened. He picked up the phone again. “Dis, anything?”

“ _No,_ ” she said. “ _When I get my hands on Bard…_ ”

“Get in line,” he said. Thorin sighed. “Dis we’ll find him.”

“ _For the Dale Family’s sake, I hope so. Either way, I’ve already got some boys picking up Tilda and Bain from wherever they are._ ”

Thorin grit his teeth. How would kidnapping Bard’s children make him cooperate with them when he believed he’d been slighted first? Before he could protest that course of action, Dis hung up and Thorin sat back down. He stared out the window and prayed that Bilbo was all right. Kili was a smart kid. He could take care of himself, but Bilbo…

He was unused to this life. He never should’ve been involved in these underhanded politics that accompanied life in the mob.

Thorin grit his teeth again and ran his hand through his hair, cursing himself again for not going to pick up Bilbo, for not deciding to surprise him with flowers or something, offer to take him to dinner out of town, somewhere a couple hours away, and just talk…

Thorin stood, checking to make sure his gun’s safety was on, and left the office.

Dwalin followed close behind. “Is everything all right?”

“What do you think?” Thorin sneered. “Dis is kidnapping his youngest two and I intend to find out who stole from a valuable ally without being ordered to.”

“Who’d be stupid enough to?” Dwalin asked.

“I don’t know. That’s what we’re going to find out. That and I want a pair searching for who might’ve taken Bilbo and Kili.”

Dwalin pulled out a phone, barking orders at whoever else worked under Thorin. They arrived at the car and Thorin slid into the seat. He tapped his foot in agitation. His entire body was taut, ready to snap, and his eyes held a dark glint. There would be blood if this didn’t end. 

There would be war.

#

_~The storm will wash my sins away,_

_Cleansing me of all this pain which is etched into_

_My skin and drawn in mud. A freezing cold shower_

_To wipe the dirt away. Lightening will flash in the sky and blind me._

_Perception will change. Growth will happen. I am more than the sin_

_Which shackles me. I am not good. I am not evil. I am both._

_And I can be made new. ~_

Bilbo clacked his teeth shut. He wished he could write it down. Hell, he wished he could _move_ at all. Lie down on his back or stand or something to get his legs working again. As it was, his bum felt a little cold and everything felt stiff.

“Who wrote that?” Kili asked. “The poem you just recited.”

“I did,” Bilbo answered. “Just came up with it right now.”

“Why?”

“No reason,” Bilbo said.

Kili hummed. “It’s nice, I guess.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Thank you.” Kili grunted. Bilbo passed it off as Kili’s own discomfort. “How about you come up with one.”

“No thanks. I’m terrible at that sort of thing.”

“Kili, I _have_ read some of your work before. It’s rough, but you can do it. So go ahead. Come up with a poem. Please? Anything to keep our minds _off_ our current situation.”

“Four hours.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s been four hours and no one’s beating us for information yet. The last time I’d been kidnapped, it took ten hours. We’re just getting started. I’m not bored yet.”

 Bilbo blinked.  _Ten hours?!_

“However, my mom’ll do what she can to get us out sooner, but in the meantime, I’d rather just sleep—actually, since we’ve been kidnapped, does that mean you’ll give me an extension on our third analysis paper?”

“ _You’ll_ get an extension,” Bilbo corrected. “Everyone else better have it in by Wednesday.”

“So I get till…Friday, right?”

“Thursday.”

“C’mon!” Kili moaned. He sighed. “You’re taking this rather well.”

Bilbo winced as he tried to shift again. He hated this. “Honestly, I’m just trying to keep as calm as I possibly can. I’m panicking on the inside.”

“Well, as I said, it could be worse,” Kili said.

“You weren’t joking about the…uh…beating?”

“No. I wasn’t.”

Bilbo shuddered. By ‘beating’ did Kili mean ‘torture?’ Or was there really a difference? Bilbo decided he didn’t really want to know.

_~My heart is lost._

_Lost to cast a light_

_On a dark world a_ _nd_

_Re_ _t_ _urns t_ _o me ba_ _ttered_

_And beaten._ _I wonder if it_

_Will ever heal, t_ _hough all_

_Around me say it will. ~_

Bilbo swallowed. “Not bad,” he said.

“Yeah, right,” Kili muttered. “It’s rubbish.”

“Kili, writing is not a precise art and poetry is very difficult. It takes _ages_ of editing for anything to sound good and _not_ rubbish. It’s a first draft. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” A bang cut him off and Bilbo winced.

“Bilbo, whatever you do, _don’t panic_ ,” Kili said sternly.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Well, that’s why I don’t want you to panic,” Kili sighed. “I don’t know.” Bilbo winced at the loud popping of guns going off and the screams that followed. Then silence. Bilbo tugged on the binds, wincing. “Bilbo, really you need to calm down.”

“But—”

The door creaked open and a man stepped inside. Bilbo didn’t know him. He also didn’t like the way he looked at them. It made the hairs on the back of Bilbo’s neck stand on end. “I think we found them,” he said. “Untie them.” A man behind him strode over and cut the bonds. Bilbo sighed, relieved, when he stood.

“Who are you?” Kili asked, placing himself in front of Bilbo as soon as he was freed. “You aren’t from Erebor—”

“Sorry, I overheard your uncle Frerin and thought to extend my help. Smaug Drac.”

“Of the Drac Family?” Kili asked.

“The same,” Smaug said. “You _are_ Kili, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Oh good!” Smaug grinned. “I suppose it should’ve been obvious. You look so much like your mother. And who is this? A friend?”

“My teacher,” Kili said.

Smaug chuckled. “Well, we best get the two of you home.” He led them outside to his car, letting Kili and Bilbo enter first. Bilbo stared out the window. “Mr. Baggins?” Bilbo turned to Smaug. He tilted his head to the side, a phone in his hand. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, I, uh,” Bilbo swallowed. “It’s been a long day.”

“Is there anyone I can contact for you? Let them know you’re all right?”

“No, thank you. I’ll manage,” Bilbo said. “But thank you, though.” Smaug hummed and the drive continued on in silence while he pressed the phone to his ear. Whoever it was he spoke to, Bilbo didn’t know and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

A few minutes passed in agony before they pulled up to a large house. Bilbo gaped at it.

“Thank you for the ride,” Kili said. “Bil—Mr. Baggins, are you coming?”

“Oh,” Bilbo said. “Yes. Yes, I think I will.” He followed Kili out of the car and thanked Smaug again. He waved at them and drove off.

“Kili!” A woman screamed, rushing out the door. Bilbo jumped out of the way when she embraced him. “Thank God you’re all right!”

“Mum—”

“Bilbo?” He looked at Thorin, standing just a few feet from him. Bilbo leaned against him. “Want to go home?”

Bilbo shook his head. “I want to lie down,” he confessed. Thorin kissed his forehead and led him up the stairs and to a room. “Who is Smaug?”

“A new comer,” Thorin said. “But we don’t trust him yet.”

“I wouldn’t trust him, period,” Bilbo said stripping his coat off. Thorin kissed his cheek. “I’ll have someone make you a sandwich or something in case you get hungry later. Get some rest, okay?” Bilbo nodded. Thorin left and Bilbo pulled off the rest of the restraining clothes, climbing into the bed. He buried his nose in the pillow, inhaling Thorin’s scent as, at last, he let the fear he had felt go, reveling in the safety of the bed he now laid in.


	17. Chapter 17

Bilbo gasped and sat up in the bed. He didn’t know where he was at first, but slowly yesterday’s events seeped back into his memory.

Smaug knew his name.

How did he know his name?!

“Bilbo?” Thorin mumbled groggily. Bilbo looked down at him. One eye was cracked open. “All right?”

“Smaug knew my name,” he said.

Thorin propped up on his arms. “Don’t underestimate a Mafioso’s intelligence network. It’s nothing to worry about, Angel. We’ve got as many eyes on him as we can.”

Bilbo hugged his legs. “I really don’t like him.”

“Neither do I,” Thorin said. “But he still saved you and Kili. Whether I like him or not, Dis and I owe him now. Which means our father owes him. We don’t know how long he’ll be here and we are still looking into what it is he’s doing here. But we’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

“What’s going to happen if you and Dale don’t get your money back one way or other?”

Thorin stared at him. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Bilbo turned to him. “Yes.” Thorin stared at him a moment before he sat up.

“If we don’t figure out where everything that belongs to us is and get it back and punish the ones who caused this trouble, we might be looking at war.”

“Which you intend to fight in? Or maybe make Kili fight in?” Bilbo accused. Thorin’s face shifted to a stony countenance. “I know that your family wants Kili to become an assassin after he graduates. Bard enlightened me. And Kili, earlier, told me about a certain murder spree you went on—”

“He had no right—”

“No. He didn’t. But I can’t deny that this isn’t going to work out if I stay ignorant. I’d rather hear these things from you, Thorin, rather than from an outside party. So tell me the truth: did you and Frerin kill civilians in a gun fight against Gundebad?”

Thorin looked away. “Yes. I was about Fili’s age. Frerin was around Kili’s at the time and our family was having trouble with Gundebad. Our grandfather had recently been assassinated by Azog and we wanted payback. I won’t apologize for killing Azog’s men, but I the civilians…they never should’ve been there. Most of them were drug addicts or homeless. You don’t want to know what Gundebad does to men and women who can’t pay them back. You saw what they’d do to someone who’s late on their payments.”

“It’s not as though your family’s any better!” Bilbo shouted. “There is no excuse for killing people, whether they deserve it or not! Okay, yes, I agree that some people deserve death, but there are also some who deserve life! What makes you or anyone think you’ve the right to make that decision?!”

“You knew from the beginning that I likely had blood on my hands,” Thorin said. Bilbo couldn’t understand how he could remain so calm. “It didn’t bother you before.”

“I was trying to ignore it before!”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “You _asked_ me to keep you out of it and I did. I respected every wish you gave me and I know you knew what I had likely done in my life, Bilbo. It’s not as though I was keeping who I am secret from you. You knew from the beginning that I was part of the Mafia. You knew it was likely I’ve killed, led others to their deaths. That is just _one_ incident Kili told you about and I was an angry kid at the time. I won’t say it doesn’t haunt me from time to time because it does, but I simply cannot let it drag me down.”

“Have you killed anyone you loved?”

Thorin glared at him. “No. Not my family. Not my exes.”

“But they were hurt before? For knowing you?”

“Not for knowing me—look, I have no intention of letting anything happen to you, Bilbo. I never failed my partner before now. When Bard took you and Kili, I was _terrified_ , all right? No one has ever _dared_ to kidnap my lover before and I really thought Bard would hurt you if he didn’t get what he wanted. He still might try.”

Bilbo massaged his head. “I can’t do this. Not unless I know the truth.”

“So now what? Do you want to know who I am or don’t you?”

“I already know who you are. What I don’t know is who you were.”

“I’m still the same person,” Thorin said.

“You know what I mean. I know that you’re remarkably sweet, adorable, and kindhearted. I know you have been hurt in the past and that you’re scared of being hurt again. I know you are incredibly awkward around other people. That you’re probably not that sociable…you’re stubborn, easily angered, and also have a big heart. I also know you grew up in this life and that you probably squashed down the depth of that love though you’d still do anything for those you love. What I don’t know is the other side of you because I’ve been terrified of it. But whether or not I want to know doesn’t matter. I need to know anyway. I can’t keep turning a blind eye to…to the other you, if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Thorin said. “Except being the mafia is not like being Jekyll and Hyde. It’s not like I black out and become a gun toting Mafioso. I’m always a gun toting Mafioso no matter where I am or how comfortable I feel. I can’t shed it off and put it on like a coat. It’s always been who I am.”

“Then tell me. From the beginning, tell me the whole story. I need to know who you are because what I know now isn’t enough and I can’t keep getting snippets from outsiders, Thorin.”

Thorin took one of Bilbo’s hands in his own. “Now or after work?”

Bilbo glanced at the clock. “Does Balin know about yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t have work today,” Bilbo said. “I’m not sure I could handle it anyway. What with everything that’s been going on. It’s madness. So whether you tell me now or later is up to you.”

Thorin lied back down. Bilbo looked at him. He had covered his eyes with his arm and his mouth was turned downward in a frown. Thorin exhaled and lowered his arm.

#

_It doesn’t begin with my birth. I suppose we both know that stories never really begin with our birth but usually begin as a part of our parent’s story. In this case, my story begins in the middle of my grandfather’s story._ _The Durin Syndicate didn’t always exist. It began as a small time petty criminal’s type of gang in the early twentieth century. My grandfather was the leader of this gang. He had rivals, mainly they were the gangs that later became Mirkwood and Dale._

_Erebor was at the time suffering from the effects of World War One._

_My grandfather and the leader of two other gangs joined forces to protect Erebor. At first, it wasn’t much more than building bomb shelters, but these bomb shelters were illegal and the police kept trying to get them to fill the holes they built, but eventually, my grandfather and the other two leaders, Girion and Oropher, had enough._ _They stormed the police station and took over it. Any fuzz that tried to get in would be shot at with their own weapons, jeered at. It was harmless at that time._

_As you can guess, it escalated into a whole battle between these roughhouse teenagers and the police. The last straw was when a group of children were slaughtered. My grandfather was about nineteen then. Not much older than Kili is now. And yet, he and several others after that caused another massacre: this time slaughtering police officers execution style._

_After that, the number of people who joined one of the three gangs grew in number. Whoever had the territory with the police precinct was the gang in charge of law enforcement or whatever was left of it. Currently, that is us. Before it was Dale while Durin control business and Mirkwood held political power._ _Now Durin controls all three._

_At the time, there was only one Mafia group and it was called the Triumvirate. The Triumvirate controlled Erebor for two decades. Thror, my grandfather, Oropher, and Girion, as you can guess, eventually married and had heirs._ _Our world was still very sexist at the time and they all had sons: my father, Thrain, was one of them. Oropher’s son, Thranduil who is still alive and leading the Mirkwood Group today, was the oldest and Oropher wanted him to lead the Triumvirate. Girion’s son, Brer, was the youngest._

_All three were groomed to work together, but the question of who would lead the Triumvirate, who would be the head of the family, was in question. At the time, it was Thror and he wanted my father to be the leader. Then there was Oropher’s argument that the oldest of the three boys should lead, and Girion broke away first, reforming the Dale Family. Those who liked his leadership joined him._

_There was a war over it for about a year before Dale mediated a parley and they agreed to split the group entirely. From there on, there’d been various negotiations, parleys, street wars, and so on._ _Erebor soon became such a dangerous city that the government declared it a rogue state. It’s still on the map, but a place where the dangerous and the desperate escape to. For the most part though, despite that, Erebor was stable, safe._

_Eventually we expanded from drug dealing, distributing alcohol, money laundering, and weapons dealing into the sex market and gambling._ _We have no tolerance for sexual slavery and all our prostitutes are registered with one family or another. It wasn’t a matter of whether we supported the sex industry or not. It was simply another way, and a very good way, to make money._ _Who you slept with didn’t matter so long as you could pay up. Yes, there was a spike in sex crimes against prostitutes, but as long as you were affiliated with one group or another, you were protected._

_In the fifties, however, a new gang showed up._ _At the time, my grandfather thought they were just hoodlums looking for trouble. For the most part, he was right, but these kids were causing so much trouble that the three other gangs tried to get them under control._ _Except their leader, Azog, was more powerful than we gave him credit for. His gang was loyal to him through and through. Whether it was due to genuine loyalty or fear, we don’t know, but several others joined them. They were new. That was all the youth at the time cared for._ _But they were also dangerous and we couldn’t trust them to not screw with the hard earned relative peace we had gained._

_Due to this, the Triumvirate reformed, but only in name._ _The gangs remained separate, but we were united against a common enemy—the newfound Gundebad Family. We managed to create a tentative peace with them and each of us took over a type of power: alcohol smuggling, money laundering, drug dealing, and weapon smuggling._ _All four gangs have bits and pieces into each of these four powers and we all own at least one brothel somewhere in the city. For every brothel, we also have two casinos._

_For the most part, it worked. It is in this era that I was born. My childhood was…normal, for the most part. But my parents never lied to me. I knew that we were part of the mafia and for a long time, I didn’t understand how that made me any different from other children. All I knew was that they feared me._ _It wasn’t until I was targeted for the first time, fifteen years later, when walking my brother home from school, that I realized what it meant to be the grandson of a godfather. To me, it meant to protect, no matter what the cost._ _And that day is the first time I held and fired a gun. It was after that day that my grooming began. Mine and Frerin’s._

_A couple years later, Dis was targeted and kidnapped. When we found her, the Gundebad punks that took her had their throats slit and my sister wouldn’t speak for ages. My grandfather did what he could to make things easier for her, but she only had one request: to lead the Durin Family._ _It was supposed to be solely my job after my father died, but my grandfather decided to allow it on the agreement that Frerin and I co-lead with her. We would be a triumvirate within a triumvirate. We agreed to this because we knew we were better together._ _After that, my sister began her own grooming as an assassin and business woman. Frerin is shrewd, and I am volatile, but Dis was both._ _It wasn’t long for her to establish that she was certainly the queen of our kingdom._

_During this time, my grandfather came across a special jewel. We still don’t know what it is exactly, but for now, we call it the Arkenstone and it remains to this day the symbol of the Durin Family’s power. Several have tried to steal it from us, but it never left our hands._ _It sort of became a local legend that whoever owned the Arkenstone would have control over Erebor. It’s a stupid legend, but it’s given credence anyway._

_All three of us had our bouts of morality over the years, not unlike what Kili is going through now, but we realized it was too late for us. We couldn’t live a normal life if we tried._ _When I went through that phase, I was coming to terms with my sexuality. I was never told it was wrong or right to be attracted to men._ _Merely I understood that some men loved men and some women loved women. Sometimes, bad things happened to them, but bad things happened to heterosexuals too, so I never really gave thought to why they were attacked. It was always just something that happened in Erebor._

_My grandfather was the first to find out. He was old, Bilbo, he didn’t understand. He thought I was going through a phase._ _My father was a little more open minded and reminded my grandfather that there were three of us. It didn’t matter if I had a child or not because one of us would have children._ _Still, my grandfather treated me like I was an embarrassment to him and to the family. Some of the group did the same, but not everyone._ _My sexuality aside, I was still one of the best businessmen in the city. Dis and Frerin didn’t care about my sexuality. I was their brother. That’s all that mattered to them._ _By the time my grandfather was able to accept me for who I was, Gundebad struck again._

_He had gone to have a meeting with them. Oropher and Girion joined him. Except they never came back alive—we received their heads in boxes. Azog carved his name in their foreheads. He killed them to_ celebrate _the birth of his own son, Bolg. It was sick and it sparked a new war between us and them._ _Then Frerin and I went after them. We believed that if we killed enough of Gundebad’s group, we could weaken them enough to run them out of Erebor._ _The problem was that they had already established their roots in our city. They were here to stay and nothing we could do would change that._

_Yes, civilians died in the crossfire and those are lives that never should have been lost. But they were lost nevertheless. I cannot change that. Nor can I fix it. All I can do is tell myself it was not my fault and if I ever stop believing that, then I have to account for my own crimes._

_We did eventually win. But by then, there was too much blood. Even now, you can find the blood of those who died in that war all over the city. From massacres to riots, those years were difficult. It was kill or be killed for a long time._ _Then it stopped. The four leaders—Thranduil, Brer, Azog, and my father—arranged a truce and we sectioned off the city, returned to the relative peace and redistributed the powers and Durin took over all the political and entrepreneurial assets._ _Dis was pregnant, as was Thranduil’s wife and Brer’s daughter-in-law._ _From there on, we managed to keep the peace so long as we didn’t venture into each other’s territories without permission._

_You might have noticed that Gundebad’s territory is nestled between ours. That is one such agreement: that Fili and Kili would be able to get to school safely. They’d go there, they’d come back._ _All in all, a twenty-thirty minute time span where they can safely travel in and out._ _For more than twenty years since, our lives were exactly like that. Apart from the occasional skirmish, Erebor was peaceful again._

_The day we met, I was lead to believe that I was supposed to meet with Bolg and we were going to establish a business transaction. What really happened was an assassination attempt._ _It was my fault. I shouldn’t have hoped that Bolg would be honorable when his father never was. I should’ve had my gun more readily accessible and I should’ve brought Dwalin with me._ _And then you came along and saved me._

_I’ve had partners before, as you know. And I loved them, but they never really loved me. They were terrified of me, or were spies from other gangs, or they simply wanted my money._ _You were the first I loved who wanted nothing to do with any of us. And I tried to honor your wishes. But as you know, we seemed to gravitate to each other anyway._ _Before then, I didn’t believe in fate or destiny. Hell, I didn’t believe in love at first sight. Lust, on the other hand, that is always reliable. I knew that I couldn’t be in love with you, but I still wanted to see you again. And I’m sure we both agree that sometimes we both wonder if what we have really is love._ _That you’re willing to give me a chance and willing to give us a shot to succeed is more than I had ever hoped for._

_Yes, I have killed more than you know over the years._

_I’ve extorted people._

_I’ve lied to people._

_But everything I’ve done is everything I know how to do and it was necessary, even if you don’t agree. I’ve never lied to you. Not when you’ve demanded the truth. Nor will I tell you a lie unless I know it is what you want to hear._

_I am the son of a godfather and will one day be Erebor’s godfather and_ yet _you have me wrapped around your finger._

 _I know you don’t agree with this life. That’s all right. I can accept that._ _All I ask is that you accept me for who I am—all of me. I have done evil things, but I am_ not evil _, Bilbo. None of us are truly evil._

_Not even Gundebad, loathe I am to admit it. They’re more twisted, yes, but not any more evil than Durin, or Dale, or Mirkwood. There is no such thing as black and white in this city. Everything is grey. There is no good. There is no evil. There is just business._ _Every death, every crime, everything you say is wrong with this city is just business as usual. We have no time for being sanctimonious. That attitude only ever got in our way of moving forward._

_Who knows, Erebor might one day be as successful as Las Vegas or some other sin city. But for now, this is who we are._

_War torn, dangerous, sick._

_And I’m not the only one who believes that the way to fix Erebor begins with people like you and Ori. You make me want to be better and I want to be the man you deserve. Bilbo, this is the only life I know. It’s the only life anyone here knows._

_Hope begins with your sense of right and wrong. Your morality. That is why I call you my angel. That is why Balin hired you. That is why so many of your students love you._ _You are an angel and if you leave, this city will never heal._

#

Bilbo held his head in his hands. “There must have been other…incidents.”

“There were,” Thorin said. “I’ve lost count.”

He lowered his hands to his lap. “You could’ve left.”

“And where would I go?” Thorin asked. “There is no place for me outside the mafia. Once you’re in, you’re in for life. Kili may go ahead and nurture this fantasy that he can live a normal life and maybe if he goes to college, he _could_. At the same time, it’s unlikely.”

“I can’t be who you think I am. It’s too much of a fantasy to think I have that much power.”

“You don’t. You’re in a position to influence others and you _can_ influence them. Same as Ori. We can try all we like, but the only way the fighting is going to stop is if someone teaches others how to put down the weapons and leave them on the ground.”

“Only to be picked up by someone else,” Bilbo said. “I don’t have power, Thorin, you do. You and your siblings can stop the madness. Not me. There’s only so much I can do. I wish I could say I was here to save Erebor, but I’m not. I’m just an English teacher on the end of his rope and grasping at string to hold on before I fall.” He sighed. “Honestly, there are days that I think I might have fallen already and I just didn’t expect to be caught, especially not by you.” Bilbo wished Thorin would answer him. He hated this silence.

“You aren’t angry at me?” Thorin asked.

“I’m furious, actually.” He looked at Thorin. “But I guess this is what I’ve signed up for when I agreed to go out with you. I don’t agree with it and I certainly won’t condone it, but I understand why you did the things you’ve done. Just…no civilians. Please.”

“I will try to keep them out of it,” Thorin said. “But that’s the most I can do. I can’t guarantee innocent parties won’t be hurt in the end.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to accept that. But don’t expect me to like it.”

Thorin kissed his cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

Bilbo got out of bed. “May I use the shower before we go to breakfast?”

Thorin nodded. He pointed at a door. “Shower and bathroom. If you want a toothbrush, there’s a few spare ones under the sink with the towels.” Bilbo thanked him and retreated into the room.

The white walls seemed to make him a little bit claustrophobic. He didn’t like any of what he heard. He could understand Thorin’s family’s point of view. Truly he could, but was it really _necessary_? Look at the state the city was in because of their choices? It was not a livable place. It was a war zone.

Then there was the matter of Smaug knowing his name. Thorin had brushed it off so he must have known that Smaug knew about Bilbo. But if Smaug could find out Bilbo’s name, what else could he find out? He probably knew Bilbo was Thorin’s lover.

 _Boy toy_ , Bard had called him.

Bilbo harrumphed at that. Ibiza aside, he and Thorin hardly had any time for sex. Nor would Bilbo stand to be treated like something Thorin could just toss aside. Especially not after all the hard work Thorin went through to win him over. He stepped into the shower and began to scrub soap over his skin. Bard and Thorin had both been robbed. It had to be a coincidence…but what if it wasn’t? Bilbo shook his head.

 _You’re being silly, Bilbo_ , he told himself as he rinsed the soap off. _The likelihood that the robberies are more than a coincidence is sliver thin. Besides, they were conducted by different people and if the Durins were going to rob anyone, wouldn’t it be Gundebad and wouldn’t they steal the same amount that was stolen from them?_

Bilbo sighed and drenched his hair. There were mysteries, and then there was mystery. He’d leave the police or whoever were in charge of that the mysteries and he’d just stick to the stories, thank you very much. He had enough trouble with one Mafioso. He didn’t need to find out that four whole groups were trying to start a new war in Erebor. He sighed and relaxed his shoulders.

 _If that’s the case, I can’t really let it happen, can I? But I don’t have the evidence for it. That’s the problem. I don’t have evidence and it’s unlikely they’d listen to me anyway, even if Thorin would._ Bilbo shook his head and lathered shampoo into his head.  _You’re overthinking things again. Go get those homework assignments and grade them. That’ll keep you from thinking nonsense._


	18. Chapter 18

Bilbo handed out one page slips of paper as he walked back toward his desk, ignoring the dismayed and annoyed glares from his students, but how else was he to know they did their homework while he was recovering from being kidnapped by Dale?

He sat down and looked over his notes for the day. “ _Arthurian Legend Study_ ” was at the top of the page. Bilbo scratched his chin and looked about the room. His eyes landed on the back of Kili’s head. Kili had pulled his hair into a messy ponytail at the nape of his neck and his brown hair stuck to his shirt like static.  Despite having stayed at the Durin’s mansion for a day before convincing Thorin to let him go home, Bilbo hadn’t seen Kili since they were rescued.

Bilbo turned away from him, wondering if there was anything else to add to the plan. Probably get the lazy asses to interact somehow…at the very least find out how many of his students know anything about Arthurian legend. Five minutes later, Bilbo ordered that the quizzes be passed back to him.

“We all know King Arthur,” he began. “Some of us might’ve at least seen the old Disney Movie _the Sword in the Stone_ which is just _one_ of the many stories featured around King Arthur. How many have seen _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_?” Nearly everyone raised a hand and grinned. “Some of you might’ve gone to see _Spamalot_ , am I right?” No hands. Uncultured brats. “How about the BBC Series _Merlin_?” A few hands rose back in the air. “There are many other movies and shows featured around King Arthur, Merlin, and Camelot. But all of that is twentieth century stuff. Stories about King Arthur, the knights of the round table, and so on date back as far as thirteenth century. Probably farther—”

The door opened and Balin stepped in. Bilbo glanced at him, brow furrowed. Balin motioned for him to follow him. Bilbo excused himself and followed him.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Bilbo asked.

“Thorin asked me to keep you informed if something went wrong.”

“And?”

“Mirkwood’s been robbed by Dale.”

Bilbo blinked and his brow furrowed deeper. That didn’t make sense. “Why would Dale rob Mirkwood when they're mad at Durin for robbing them? Wouldn’t it make more sense for them to steal from Durin?”

“Yes. We don’t know what’s going on. But the only one unscathed so far is Gundebad,” Balin said. “The only think I can think of is that someone is trying to start a war between the four groups.”

“Okay. That would make sense, but you really couldn’t wait until _after_ school to tell me this?”

“Thorin wanted you to know as soon as possible. They’re going to have a meeting later today and it could get bloody.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” Bilbo muttered. “Could you let him know to call me around lunch? Just to let me know no one’s gone trigger happy yet.”

Balin nodded.

“Thank you. Can I go back to my class?”

“Probably should before someone leads a mutiny,” Balin said, patting Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo didn’t find it as funny as Balin did. He entered the room.

“All right!” he shouted above the noise. “Themes of pre-Galfridian Arthurian legends are monster hunting, that he was a leader of some sort of superhumans—you laugh now, but if you’re not writing this down…”

#

“Baggins.”

“ _Hey, Angel._ ”

“Everything okay?” Bilbo asked.

“ _Yes. No one’s pulled out any weapons yet.  Gundebad’s also been robbed, but by Mirkwood. All we’ve managed to establish is that none of these robberies were authorized by anyone from on top. So we’ve agreed to find the thieves and deliver them to who they stole from._ ”

“I don’t like how that sounds.”

“ _You shouldn’t. It’s bloody ugly in here. Bolg nearly took Legolas’ head off. Thank God for Tauriel. That bitch is an excellent guard._ ”

“You’re thankful for her, but you’re calling her a bitch?”

“ _She is a bitch. She’s almost as nasty as my sister. That makes it a compliment_ ,” Thorin said. Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“ _I love you too_.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Be safe. And call me again when school gets out.”

“ _I can’t promise that, but I will call you again as soon as feasibly possible._ ”

“Fair enough,” Bilbo sighed. “But if you die, I will find a way to resurrect you just to murder you again.”

“ _I’d rather stay dead then,_ ” Thorin said, laughing. “ _I’ll be all right. We’re all wearing bullet proof vests in case Gundebad gets frisky._ ”

“That’s not as funny as you think it is!”

“ _It’s hilarious and you know it._ ”

“Your sense of humor is in dire need of a tune up,” Bilbo growled. “Just call me when you can, sweetheart. All right?”

“ _All right, all right! I’ll call and let you know I’m still among the living. Or undead._ ”

“Thorin!”

“ _Got to go, I love you._ ”

“I love you too,” Bilbo said. “Bye.”

“ _Bye_.” Thorin hung up. Bilbo set the phone down and picked up his potato salad. He prayed everything would be all right despite the doubt filling his mind.

#

Bilbo stuffed his hands in his pockets when he stepped outside to go home. He smiled. Just a month to go before summer started. Despite the mugginess and the constant scream of sirens, the sky was bright blue and the sun shone white-yellow. It was pleasantly hot, not the stuffy hot it was back in September.

He returned a few goodbyes from students walking past him. All in all, despite the exciting week he’d had so far, it wasn’t that bad.

“Mr. Baggins.” He turned to the speaker and stiffened. Smaug leaned against a red Ferrari, hands stuffed in his pant pockets. “Perhaps I may have a moment of your time?”

Bilbo approached. “May I ask why?”

“No reason,” Smaug said. “I’m merely curious. You’re an associate of the Durin family through your relationship with Thorin, but you are not affiliated with any of the gangs. It’s intriguing. Everyone in Erebor is in one way or other tied to a gang, but not you.”

“I’ve no need or intent of leading a double life,” Bilbo said. “So I don’t have one. And as far as I’m concerned, my only relationship with the mafia will be through my relationship with Thorin.” His phone buzzed and he let it go to voice mail. Whether he liked Smaug or not didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to be rude and answer his phone in the middle of a conversation.

“Interesting,” Smaug said, “Especially considering how much sway you have already. Through Thorin, you would have more power you’d know what to do with.”

“I don’t need it though. What I have and what I do is enough. While I’m happy with Thorin, I’m not with him because of the power he has. I love him. That’s reason enough. I don’t like what he does for a living, and I won’t pretend to condone it, but I can’t do anything about it, so I’ve accepted it.”

“But why not use the power you’ve gained?”

“I don’t need to use it,” Bilbo said. Smaug just looked confused and he sighed. “I can see that that doesn’t make sense to you. Look, not everyone is powerful. Some people are just content. I’m one of them. I’m fine with being overlooked because in the end, power isn’t going to do me any good. Neither will wealth or status. None of that matters. Just because I’m dating someone with power doesn’t mean I’m going to tell him what to do with it. All I do is ask him to be wiser with it and he tries to be.”

“Does he?”

“He has so far.”

Smaug hummed. “You’re an interesting man, Bilbo Baggins. Thorin chose well. I can see how he could have fallen in love with you.” He handed Bilbo a card. “Join me for a drink some time. We can talk later.” He stepped into the car and drove away. Bilbo stared at the card and ripped it up.

 _Over my dead body_ , he thought, pulling his phone out to see he received a text message rather than a voice message.

 _Still in the meeting,_ Thorin had wrote, _still unsure how we’re all going to get our product/money back. Will drop by afterwards. Love you._

Bilbo smiled and typed a quick message back as he walked away. Maybe he could make Thorin something for dinner. Lasagna sounded good…with some red wine. Perhaps chocolate cake for dessert with strawberries…

 _Don’t make yourself hungry!_ Bilbo chastised himself as he walked away from the school. Kili’s car slowed beside him and the window rolled down.

“Want a ride?” Kili asked. _Can I talk to you_ was heavily implied. Bilbo hoped it was about homework as he climbed in.

“Something up?”

Kili handed him a set of papers. “These are some college entry essays I’m working on, but I’m not sure that they’re good enough…would you mind looking at them?” Bilbo felt a little tension fall away from his shoulders. “I understand if you can’t, but I understand if you can’t since you got a lot of essays to grade for school anyway and—”

“Kili, I can spare a few minutes looking at these. I don’t mind,” Bilbo said, taking the papers. “Do you know where you want to go?”

“Not yet. But these are for all the schools I’ve looked at. I’m thinking of going for OTC.”

Bilbo sharpened his gaze. “OTC? Kili, I’m not sure that’d be wise.”

“I’m good at it, aren’t I?

“Maybe you are, but Kili, that sort of schooling would be prime for the mafia. I thought you wanted out. You know: white fence and apple pie…”

“I did, but that’s not likely to happen. I don’t know any other way to live. At least if I join the army, I might be able to use what I know for good even if just for a little while. It’s either that or business. I mean, I could go for English or Art or History, but,” he shrugged, “at this point, I’m pretty much lost.”

“No, you’re not,” Bilbo said. “Kili, it’s not hopeless. You don’t have to be a part of your family’s legacy.”

“But there’s nothing else I know. I was just kidding myself when I thought I could get out. But mafia or not, they’re still my family. I’m never going to get away from them. It’d be impossible and I can’t do that to my mom.”

“You don’t have to cut your family out of your life to do what you want,” Bilbo said. He leaned forward. “Kili, the mafia is not your only choice. You’re a smart kid. You can find a way out and still be connected to your family.”

“Bilbo, I _can’t_. I’ve already pushed them enough with wanting to go to college. Most I can do is make myself useful somehow.”

“Kili they want you to _kill_ for them!” Bilbo shouted. “Does that in any way sound like a loving family?! It’s twisted!” Kili crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t mean to make Kili defensive. “I’m sorry I yelled. But unless you genuinely want to join the army because it’s where you want to be, I think you’re making a big mistake. Anyway, I’ll look at these,” he put the essays in his bag. “And I’ll let you know what I think.”

Kili nodded and dropped Bilbo off at home. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Baggins,” he said, driving off. Bilbo entered the building and got onto the elevator. He understood falling in love with a teacher could be difficult, and he wasn’t going to tell Kili otherwise…

Well, he guessed there was no real way for him to really smooth everything over between him and Kili at this point. Once at his flat, he checked to see if he needed to go to the store before he started cooking dinner and grinned when he found he had everything. Including red wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. This is a much shorter chapter than usual. I’ve been having a little difficulty writing 9-10 pages for these chapters (yeah, not a whole lot, I know, but anyway…) so I’m wondering if anyone would object to having shorter chapters from here on out?


	19. Chapter 19

While getting the ingredients and utensils laid out on the table, his phone rang again. Bilbo pressed his phone between his ear and shoulder. “Hello?”

 _“Bilbo, I might be later than I think,_ ” Thorin said.

“Why?” He set the pan down and straightened.

“ _Uh…you know how I said no one was shooting anyone yet? Yeah…_ ”

Bilbo’s blood ran cold and he eased himself into a chair. “Who died?”

“ _No one died yet. I told you we’re wearing vests._ ”

“But someone could get shot in the head.”

“ _Well, yes…but it was a minor misunderstanding._ ”

“A minor misunderstanding,” Bilbo repeated. “I’m never going to understand you!”

“ _We’re okay. It’s settled…_ ”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“ _Better you than Bolg._ ” Bilbo shook his head. He and Thorin were going to talk about priorities. “ _Bilbo, angel, I’m fine. I’ll see you tonight._ ”

“You better,” Bilbo said. “And come unharmed, if you can.”

Thorin chuckled. “ _I’ll do my best._ ” He hung up and Bilbo set the phone on the counter. From Kili announcing he’d join the army to hone his skills as a sniper to Smaug asking him what aimed to do with his relationship with Thorin to everything Thorin was dealing with at the moment, Bilbo wasn’t sure _how_ he managed to get through the day as a whole.

#

_Erebor’s gangs control four major powers: alcohol distribution, weapon smuggling, money laundering, and drug dealing…_

Bilbo opened his eyes. Thorin rolled onto his back, groaning, and a hand resting low on his stomach as head turned toward Bilbo. He did not wake when Bilbo snuck out of bed and entered the kitchen to grab a notepad and pen. He turned on a lamp and sat cross legged on the couch, tapping his pen against the paper before daring to write.

> _Gundebad stole alcohol from Erebor, who then stole weaponry from Dale. Dale stole money from Mirkwood, and Mirkwood stole methamphetamines from Gundebad. Not one of these robberies was authorized by anyone in a position of power._
> 
> _Does Smaug have a role in this? If so, what is he aiming to do? Why did he come to Erebor? What does he aim to do here? Who is Smaug Drac?_

Bilbo pulled the pen away from the paper, chewing his lower lip. He put the cap over the ball and went to grab his laptop. Once online, he entered a google search for Smaug. The first page listed was a crime study website, specifically for:

**The Drac Family Mafia**

Bilbo opened the page and began to read.

> _Founded and currently led by Glaurung Drac and his three sons, Ancalagon, Scatha, and Smaug…_
> 
> _…One of the most ambitious and dangerous gangs in Europe…_
> 
> _…Power grows each day…_
> 
> _…Glaurung…currently testing his children to see who is worthy of leading the family…_

The lights turned on and Bilbo gasped, starting. He turned to look at Thorin, who leaned against the wall, arms crossed and glaring in the light. Bilbo grinned sheepishly. “Did I wake you?”

“Not until I noticed you weren’t in bed. Can’t sleep?” Thorin asked.

“Just a thought that won’t leave me alone,” Bilbo said, closing his laptop. Thorin approached, pulling the pad away from Bilbo’s lap. “It’s not important—”

“Actually, it’s very important,” Thorin said, staring at the notes. “Smaug is definitely a suspect we all have, but there is no evidence condemning him yet.”

“Would there be?”

“Probably not,” Thorin said. He put the notepad down and wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders and played with his curls. “But we’ll figure it out. Hopefully before it gets dangerous again.”

“It’s always dangerous,” Bilbo said and rested his head on Thorin’s shoulder. “Far more dangerous than it should ever be in this city.” Thorin kissed his forehead.

“To be fair, it could be worse.”

“That’s not as comforting as you might think it is…but isn’t Smaug the most likely suspect? Didn’t he show up just as the robberies began? How much do you even know about him and yet he’s been getting close to your family—”

“To everyone, actually,” Thorin said. “He plays the new friend, seeking to gain allies. He’s met with me and my siblings. He’s met with my father, Azog and Bolg, Bard and his children, and Legolas—Thranduil is too arrogant to be bothered with him.”

“Is that wise?”

“No,” Thorin said. “We don’t know why Thranduil refuses to meet with Smaug. Nor is it really our business to make him. Legolas can try, but, well, it’s unlikely he’ll succeed. Thranduil’s a good man. He knows what he’s doing. At least we hope so. He’ll only ever meet with other leaders, won’t even give me the time of day. Meaning I have to deal with Legolas most of the time and that kid…”

“Kid?”

“He’s the heir to Mirkwood and he’s about Kili’s age!”

“How old’s his father?”

“Around seventy-five, eighty.”

“Youngest son?”

“Only child born from his fourth wife. All the others weren’t interested in having kids and he had a habit of marrying them and when they got older, he divorced them. When he started getting older he figured he’d rather hand the family over to a child he wanted.”

Bilbo winced. “Okay. That’s…rather…poor kid.”

“He and Kili used to be good friends. I’m not sure why they still aren’t. They got along well enough and Legolas is a good kid when it suits him to be. Also a very talented sniper. Nearly as talented as Kili.” Bilbo sighed. “What is it?”

“Kili’s thinking of becoming a military science major.”

“And?”

“I don’t know what happened at home since I saw him last, but he seemed to have lost any hope of getting out. Honestly, Thorin, I really don’t think this life is good for him. Or any child, really.”

Thorin didn’t answer for a long time. “It’s not,” he said. “It probably never was, but when you’re raised in it there’s very little you can do to get out of it.”

“Thorin—”

“It’s just something we learned to accept,” he said. “He’s eighteen, Bilbo. He was exposed and groomed to this life at a very young age. Everyone in my family was. Leaving the Mafia might be possible, but for those like us, who were raised in it from birth…we don’t know any other way to live. It’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Bilbo snapped. “You wanted out too, once, right? You just gave up hoping you could have a normal life. Yes, I suppose in a way, living a normal life is harder when you’re not raised in it, but _Thorin_ , life in the mafia is _not normal_. Nor is it healthy. I can accept it, live with it, whatever, but I won’t ever condone it…I know it’s not too late for Kili. I’m frightened for him, Thorin. Maybe he’ll listen to you. Won’t he?”

Thorin stared at him, still playing with Bilbo’s hair. Outside, the sky lightened as the sun dragged itself into the sky. “Do you really think he has a chance?”

“I do.”

“You understand that the choice still has to be his?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll talk to him, but that’s all I can really do. I can’t make him choose what to do with his life any more than you can. After that, no matter what he chooses to do, you need to respect that. He’s been told far too many times that the choices he wants to make are mistakes. Mostly from his grandfather, you see. Sometimes by Frerin and his parents.”

“Not you?”

“I did my best to teach him that he is a free thinking human being and that he should do what he believes is for the best. And then you did the same only except _now_ you’re doing what everyone else in his life has done. But the choice ultimately as to be his, all right?” Guilt clenched around him. He had only meant to help Kili. “Whatever his final decision is on the matter, you’ll respect it, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “But if he chooses the mafia, don’t expect me—”

“To be happy about it,” Thorin said, kissing his forehead. “I get it.” Bilbo tucked his legs underneath him and closed his eyes. “I’ve been meaning to ask you: there’s a certain party that my family hosts every late spring, early summer.”

“You want me to be your date? Or is it plus one?” Bilbo asked, the corners of his mouth turning upward into a smile at last. “Give me a little more information about it and I’ll _think_ about it.”

“Yes, it’s a tie and suit sort of function, mostly boring conversations concerning business and the weather, as well as lots of fancy food. Like spaghetti.”

“Very fancy,” Bilbo chuckled.

“With meatballs the size of a fist.”

“I doubt that.”

“Fine, they may be half that size but the meatballs are still very big. And there’s also an assortment of desserts. Cake. Pie. Chocolate fondue.”

Bilbo slapped Thorin’s chest. “Stop it. You’re making me hungry!”

“We could have breakfast,” Thorin suggested, taking Bilbo’s hand in his and kissing the palm of his hand. “That’ll take care of your hunger.”

“So long as you stop talking about food,” Bilbo said, kissing him. “And we’ll discuss this party of yours later. At the very least, I’m interested, but if I get bored…”

“If you say yes, you’ve no one to blame but yourself.”

“So it will be, but if I disappear and you find me in a library...”

“Then I’ll let everyone know you over drank.”

“Bastard,” Bilbo groaned, finally detaching himself from Thorin. His stomach clawed at him from the inside out. “Eggs and bacon sound good to you?”

“When does it not?”


	20. Chapter 20

Bilbo sat at his desk and stretched, yawning. It’d not been a long day. For a Friday, it wasn’t so bad. Most of the time, he had to stop a near mutiny by the end of the weekend. Someone knocked on the door and he called for them to come in.

“Can I talk to you?” Kili asked, poking his head in.

“Sure,” Bilbo said. “What’s on your mind? Oh! I got around to these for you,” he said, handing Kili the papers. Kili thanked him and put them in his bag.

“I was thinking of changing my major again.”

“Okay.”

“I just don’t know to what,” he said.

“You don’t have to decide what your major is going to be now. Some start out with an undeclared major, dipping their toes here and there until they find something they like. Others know exactly what they’re going to do when they get there and others just completely switch in the middle of their studies.”

“Did you?” Kili asked.

“Honestly, no. I didn’t. Books gave me hope when there was none to be found. I wanted to show others that hope. Not that it seems to work here…”

“It does,” Kili said. “So many people here find an escape in drugs or alcohol. I think so many of us forget there are healthier ways to escape.” Bilbo grinned. Hearing that was reassuring. “Not that I like the projects or the homework or—”

“Well, who does?” Bilbo asked. “It’s sadly a necessary evil, I’m afraid. Otherwise I’d do away with it all together.”

“I was thinking of doing an analytical essay on _Great Expectations_ ,” Kili said. “I know we didn’t cover it in class this year, but—”

“No, that’s fine,” Bilbo said. “Did your uncle suggest it?”

Kili shook his head. “I did ask for his copy, though. He told me if I marked it up—”

“I can guess there were threats of dismemberment,” Bilbo said. “Thorin does love Dickens…I look forward to reading your essay, Kili. May I ask why you chose it?"

Kili shrugged standing. “I just remembered reading it before or Thorin reading it to me when I was younger, and I feel like I’m connected with Pip in some ways now.”

“Connected how?” Bilbo asked, raking his brain. _Oh, God, do I have to go look up the summary online?!_ He thought, beating down a sigh when he couldn’t remember what the story was about.

Kili shrugged. “I’ll see you later, right?”

“First thing Monday, as usual.”

Kili nodded and walked away, closing the door behind him. Bilbo turned to his computer, intending to refresh his memory—then stopped, hissing in a breath when the story’s plot finally submerged. One of the themes of _Great Expectations_ was unrequited love…and learning to accept disappointment.

#

“I don’t see why I can’t get my own suit,” Bilbo said as he followed Thorin into Men’s Warehouse.

“You bought me clothes once,” Thorin reminded him. “Think of it as repaying the favor.”

“I didn’t buy you clothes.”

“Yeah, you did.” Thorin pulled out a book and flipped through them. He turned to Bilbo. “Do you wear waistcoats?”

“What?”

“You look like you’d wear waistcoats.”

“Thorin, I did not buy you clothes. You wouldn’t let me.”

Thorin furrowed his brow. “Oh, yeah. You can buy me something next time, then.”  Bilbo threw his hands in the air, muttering about how impossible Thorin could be. “Yeah, let’s go with a vested suit in navy,” Thorin said, waving over an associate. Bilbo glared at him. “It won’t be blue,” he promised. “Navy’s a nice dark color. You’ll look good.”

Several white dress shirts, a new navy tie, black dress shoes and a dark navy blue suit being fitted to him later (which was to be picked up Thursday before the party), Bilbo followed Thorin out of the shop. “I want to strangle you,” he snapped. “Why would you spend that much on me?!”

“So you’re okay with spending a week at a five star hotel in Spain, but when I buy you a suit, you throw a fit?” Thorin asked, smirking.

“Okay, I see your point,” Bilbo said, sighing. “So many I’m not homicidal about it. Miffed at best. And Spain was worth it. Besides, I have suits.”

“You’re going to be nitpicked for not wearing something that’s some sort of designer clothing, Angel,” Thorin said, wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders. “And I know you well enough not to buy you Brioni or Armani, so I figured something a little more affordable would be up your alley. Wilke Rodriguez isn’t that well known, but it’s classy enough. Think of it this way: you have something to wear to graduation now.”

“Graduation is a month and a half away and I’m not even leading the ceremony.”

“But you’ll be there.”

“Yes,” Bilbo sighed, “I’ll be there.”

“Then stop complaining. You might as well have at least one ridiculously nice suit.”

“I’m taking comfort in that the suit itself was three hundred dollars. And no, I do _not_ need an Italian designer suit.” Thorin chuckled.

“You’re missing out.”

“I disagree,” Bilbo said, checking the time. “Shall we get something to eat?”

“Sure,” Thorin said, kissing Bilbo’s cheek.

“Good. I’m paying.”

“But—”

“Thorin, I am _not_ poor,” Bilbo said. “True, I’m not rich either, but I can pay for two people at a restaurant. Okay?” Thorin sighed and nodded.

“All right. I guess I could allow it once in a while.”

Bilbo grinned. “Thanks, love,” he said, dragging Thorin to Benares.

#

Bilbo woke to see rain pouring, splattering on the window. Thorin still slept. His arm was draped over Bilbo waist and face pressed to his back. He untangled himself from Thorin’s arms, placing a kiss on his cheek before escaping to the bathroom.

He let the almost too hot water turn his skin pink as he washed his hair and scrubbed body wash onto his skin. Once clean, Bilbo stepped out of the shower and dried himself before returning to the bedroom to select clothes for the day. He barely opened a door when arms circled around his waist and Thorin laid his head on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” he purred, voice still thick with sleep.

“Sleep well.”

“Yes,” Thorin kissed his shoulder. “You?” Bilbo nodded, finding a dark green shirt he liked. “Come back to bed,” Thorin begged.

“I just got up.”

“And you don’t have to be anywhere today,” Thorin said, pulling Bilbo back to the bed and tucking his fingers between the towel and Bilbo’s hips. “Don’t you?” The towel dropped to the floor and Thorin pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s chest.

“Groceries,” Bilbo said. Thorin squeezed his bum, pulling Bilbo onto his lap and rolling them over so Bilbo was on his back. “Other than that, I’ve nothing to do.”

“Seriously? We can get take out.”

“I’m _not_ going to live on takeout for a week—” Someone rapped on the door and Thorin groaned. Bilbo shoved him off. “I promise we’ll have sex. Just not now, okay?”

“Do I have a choice?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo gave him a sound _thwack_ to his behind and dressed before leaving the room to answer the door. A woman stood at the door. She wore a grey dress and matching blazer. Her dark hair was pulled into a strict bun. Her face seemed to be chiseled from stone. Her jaw, check bones, lips, nose, eyes—bright blue and familiar eyes—were all sharp. A large, black purse hung onto her shoulder and her arms were crossed over her chest. She tapped her foot against the wood floor with her black pumps.

“Good morning.”

“Hm, depends on your definition of good,” she said. “Are you Bilbo Baggins?”

“I am,” Bilbo said, “Would you like to come in?” He stepped aside for the woman. Her heels tapped against the floor.

“So Thorin would be here,” she said.

“Uh, well, yes, but I don’t see how—”

“Oh! Right,” she laughed. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m his sister, Dis Durin,” she said, holding her hand out. “He was taking too long to formally introduce us, so I figured I’d take matters into my own hand.”

“I was GOING to be formally introducing him at Dad’s party,” Thorin growled, leaning against the doorway.

Dis smirked. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” Bilbo said at the same time Thorin said, “Yes.” Dis smirked.

“You’re so cute when you’re frustrated,” she said, patting Thorin’s cheek. She turned to Bilbo. “Anyway, I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for the family so far and to invite you to formally join us.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said. “Well, not that I’m not flattered or anything, but I’m not interested in joining the mafia.” He clicked his tongue. “Ever.”

“Trust me, you won’t have to do a thing,” she said. “We won’t stash money here or bring a person who needs some…convincing. It’s strictly so that you are recognized as one of our own, get a security detail set up—”

“I’m not enough of a ‘security detail’?” Thorin snapped.

Dis laughed. “You get shot at too much to count, Thorin,” she cackled. “Didn’t you say getting shot was how you two met? Ha! Oh…” She turned to Bilbo, wiping her eyes. “Goodness. He’s good at what he does, but if it weren’t for Dwalin, Frerin, and me, he’d never have made it to twenty.”

“Okay, Dis, you have to go.”

“No she doesn’t,” Bilbo said. “I like her.” Thorin glared at him and Bilbo grinned. He’d admit it was fun to rile Thorin up once in a while, but for the most part, Dis was more easygoing than he expected her to be. It reminded him a bit of Kili if Kili was easier to talk to.

“Well, there you have it,” Dis said. “Give me a minute to let Frerin know.”

“Frerin too?!” Thorin shouted.

“What? Something had to be done. You’ve been hiding Bilbo for a long time. Even _we_ got to meet Ori already. He and Bilbo are adorable, by the way. I didn’t think you and Dwalin preferred the adorable ones—have you eaten yet? We brought food from the Lonely Mountain.”

“You really couldn’t wait another week?” Thorin snapped.

“What would be the point now?” Dis retorted, pulling out her phone. “Besides we already got the food. How about you go take a shower, Thorin. I can smell you from here and it’s disgusting.” Bilbo winced, but Thorin just flipped her off and went to the bathroom.

“Was that necessary?” he asked.

“Ha, he knows I don’t mean it. But don’t you think it’d be odd if I did think he smelt good?”

Bilbo thought on it. “Yeah, that would be weird.”


	21. Chapter 21

Thorin’s siblings were a bit…rambunctious, if Bilbo were to give their behavior a name. They seemed to have more fun than they should poking fun at Thorin who scowled at them throughout breakfast. Bilbo didn’t mind them, Dis and Frerin were hilarious. Besides, who else was going to tell him embarrassing stories from Thorin’s childhood?

“Did you get a suit for the party next week yet?” Dis asked.

“We went to Men’s Warehouse yesterday,” Bilbo said. “The suit’s being tailored—”

Dis and Frerin turned to Thorin, scowling.

“Seriously?” Dis asked. “Men’s Warehouse?”

“Sure it’s got good day wear, but he can’t wear one of those suits!”

Bilbo blanched. _Oh crap_. “No, I’m fine. Really. I don’t need anything insanely expensive, I can’t afford it!”

“Who said you’d have to pay?” Frerin asked, wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Frerin—”

He waved Thorin off. “I got this.”

“You just want to give him the shovel talk.”

“That is neither here nor there,” Frerin said. Bilbo wasn’t sure what that meant nor did he know if he wanted to know. “Don’t worry, bro, he’ll be hella sexy when I’m done with him.” Bilbo blushed.

“Well still get the suit from Men’s Warehouse,” Bilbo assured Thorin.

“For the graduation,” Thorin agreed stiffly, glaring at Frerin.

“Wonderful,” Frerin said, grinning. “Don’t worry, Thorin, he’s in good hands.”

“That’s what worries me.”

“Hey!”

Bilbo had the feeling he was going to regret this the moment breakfast was finished and both of Thorin’s siblings dragged him out of the apartment. He sent a pleading glance toward Thorin and the bastard just shrugged and waved.

They dragged him into some remote tailor, who chose an Armani suit for him, mentioning something about the design, but it was slightly over Bilbo’s head. He only understood that the suit was made from wool and would be paired with a cotton dress shirt and black silk tie. He tried to get out of wearing it, but Frerin, Dis, and the tailor were all in agreement:

Bilbo was stuck.

Whether Bilbo liked how much they cost or not, the suit was comfortable. He tried to get them to not pay for it, but there was simply no way he’d be able to afford it and neither of them minded.

“I’m actually shocked he doesn’t give you an allowance,” Dis said when they left. “Thorin’s usually better at spoiling his partners.”

“I don’t really want him to spoil me,” Bilbo said, frowning at her. “I’m not dating him for his money and I don’t like the implication that I am or that I need it to stay with him.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that at all,” Frerin said. “He likes to dote on people.”

“Fili and Kili used to come home every day with a new toy of some sort,” Dis added. “But that was years ago. Besides, didn’t you go to Ibiza together?”

“Yes…but that was—”

“Different?” Dis asked.

“Trust me, Thorin makes more than enough for the two of you from the businesses he owns,” Frerin assured him. “And he’s not very good at words. He expresses his love through actions. Loosen that leash a little bit, eh?”

“It’s not like that!” Bilbo said. “I feel bad when he buys me things. He doesn’t have to woo me and he shouldn’t feel like he has to.”

Dis hummed, lighting a cigarette. “Wooing isn’t a bad thing.”

“He doesn’t need to go to such lengths. I liked Ibiza, but a week at a country resort in Sussex would’ve been just as good.”

“Ah, I see,” Dis said, smiling. “You’re easier to please than the others Thorin’s dated, so you don’t want him to try as hard. My husband was the same when we finally started dating.” Frerin pretended to gag, but Dis and Bilbo ignored him. “Víli nearly expended his salary trying to keep me happy. There was always new perfume, jewelry, and so on, but I was already in love with him by the time we realized it. It took a trip to the fair for me to finally get through to him he doesn’t have to try so hard. He felt that way because of my father. As for Thorin, it was usually the only way to keep his partners interested. He doesn’t like to talk a lot and he easily gets jealous, so doing things for the person he’s in love with is how he shows he thinks about them.”

“That’s normal though,” Bilbo said. “Many couples do that.”

“True, but for Thorin, it’s usually one-sided,” Dis said. Bilbo winced. The most he did was cook and admitted as much. Dis laughed. “That explains why he’s been worried about gaining weight.” Bilbo blushed. She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve not seen Thorin like this in a long time. I’m glad he met you, regardless how you two met.”

“Same here,” Frerin said. “He’s loosened up. On that note…” Their eyes flashed and Bilbo felt terror seep through him. “If you ever break his heart, there won’t be anywhere you can run nor hide from us.”

“Just something to keep in mind,” Dis added, giving him a sweet smile. Bilbo nodded, wanting to disappear. He didn’t want to get on their bad side, regardless how.

When their backs turned, he sent Thorin a text:

_Your siblings scare me._

The response came nearly a minute after:

**_What did they do?_ **

_Shovel talk._

**_Shit! I’m sorry! I asked them to behave._ **

_I know, love. I was there. They’re very sweet otherwise, though._

**_That scares me more than whatever it was they threatened you with._ **

_The threats were vague. But they really aren’t as bad as I thought they’d be (which is your fault, you jerk, you tried to turn me against them). You know I love you right?_

**_I do. I love you too._ **

“Is that Thorin?” Frerin asked, looking over Bilbo’s shoulder.

“I believe this is a private conversation, thank you,” Bilbo snapped, cradling his phone to his chest and glaring at Frerin, who scoffed. “What?”

“You’re no fun.”

“Because I won’t let you see what your brother wrote me? Would you like it if Thorin pried into your love life?”

“He’d never have the guts. I need new blackmail material.”

“That’s more reason for me to not show it to you. Besides, there’s nothing here that could incriminate Thorin.” Frerin pouted, muttering about Bilbo having no sense of humor or something of that matter. They entered the car. His phone buzzed.

**_Are they still there?_ **

Bilbo arched a brow at the text and replied:

_Yes. Why?_

**_No reason._ **

Bilbo sighed.

_I’ll be home soon. You’ll help me with the groceries first, though._

**_Yes, Angel._ **

“Still Thorin?” Frerin asked, a hopeful edge to his tone.

“There is no blackmail material here,” Bilbo snapped. Dis smacked the back of Frerin’s head.

“Behave yourself,” she said, adding quietly: “If you ever get a girlfriend, Thorin and I will get our revenge, you ass.”

“See what I have to deal with?” Frerin said, pouting. “They’re evil, Bilbo!”

“You’ll find no sympathy from me.”

Frerin scowled. “You and Thorin deserve each other, ass holes.”

“I’m glad you agree,” Bilbo said, smiling at him. Dis threw her head back and laughed.

#

“Have I apologized for my siblings yet?” Thorin asked, unpacking the bags while Bilbo found places for the items.

“Yes. More than enough, I think.”

“They’re a handful! I’m still marveling how you got out in one piece!”

Bilbo closed the refrigerator and wrapped his arms around Thorin’s arms. “They aren’t as bad as I expected them to be,” Bilbo assured them. “It’s easy to forget that they’re Mobsters when you’re around them. At least it was for me. They’re very laid back. More than you are, anyway. But that doesn’t mean I appreciate being threatened by them.”

“I told them not to!”

Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck and kissed him. “I know. Anyone else I’ll be meeting at this party that might try to meet me sooner?”

“No. You already met my father. Víli’s too nice to dare, though I half expected him to show up with Dis. Either he had work to do or he was with his sons.”

Bilbo let him go, grabbing a couple boxes of pasta to put in the pantry, lost in thought.

_What is it with this family wanting to spend money on me? I need to get them—Thorin especially—to stop that. I know I hadn’t been clear on that earlier, but…_

He turned to Thorin.

_Enough is enough._

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” Thorin blanched. Bilbo took his hand in his. “Relax, love. I just don’t want you to spend money on me so much, okay? And your siblings shouldn’t spend any on me at all. It makes me feel bad because there’s no way I can return that kind of gesture, even though I do think it’s sweet. Thorin, I love you. You have me. You don’t need to try so hard to woo me. Just spending time together is enough for me. I’m grateful for all you’ve done and I will always be grateful for it, but you being here with me right now is all I will ever need. Not that I don’t enjoy being spoiled once in a while, but…not every time we go out. Okay?”

Thorin nodded and Bilbo kissed his knuckles.

“So…say I do want to spend money on you. What _is_ acceptable? What will not make you feel bad?”

“Flowers,” Bilbo said. “And food will never go remiss, but no jewelry and no more ridiculously expensive clothes. I’ve already got two suit sets now and there’s literally nothing I can wear them for save a couple events a year, it seems. I teach in high school and we’re very lax about what to wear. Thorin, I wear jeans and t-shirts almost all the time. Another thing: I don’t want a daily thing like a bouquet a day or something that silly nor do I want to go out to a fancy restaurant every week. Cook dinner with me once in a while.”

Thorin hummed and kissed Bilbo’s cheek. “You are ridiculously easier to please than I thought.”

“Good,” Bilbo said, smiling. “I’d hate to make things harder than they should. With that in mind, let’s finish up here and I’ll take care of you.”

“Everything that needs to be in the refrigerator is—”

“Nope. You’re not getting out of putting groceries away just yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will be posting chapters Monday starting next week. 
> 
> I swear I am getting to the party! Big things happen at the party! I promise!


	22. Chapter 22

Bilbo stared at the mirror, examining the suit. It was really too nice. He was almost afraid to wear the suit. There had to be others who pulled it off better than he did. He adjusted his glasses and tucked his hair behind his ears.

“Are you ready yet?” Thorin asked, knocking on the door.

“Just about,” Bilbo said, adjusting the tie again. The door opened and Thorin stepped in. Bilbo watched Thorin’s eyes rove over him and he blushed. “Do you have to do that?”

“Why not?” Thorin asked. He reached around and fixed Bilbo’s tie. “You look hot.” He released the tie and wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s torso. “Absolutely stunning. Now put your shoes on and we’ll go.”

“I feel like a penguin,” Bilbo admitted as he left the bathroom and grabbed his new dress shoes. Thorin laughed, leaning against the wall. “How is that funny?” Bilbo snapped.

“Because you _don’t_ look like one,” Thorin said. “Bilbo, really, you look fine.” Bilbo set one foot down and slid the other foot into the shoe, ignoring Thorin. He felt Thorin approach, and lean over him. His lips nearly touched Bilbo’s ear and his hand on Bilbo’s thigh burned hot. “After the party, I want to take it off you,” he whispered. Save for the seemingly permanent blush, Bilbo managed to ignore him. Thorin pecked his cheek and let Bilbo stand before taking his hand.

Dwalin leaned against the car, also dressed in a suit and tie. Beside him was a shorter man, also dressed finely for the night, who shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Bilbo almost didn’t recognize him.

“Ori?”

He looked up and beamed. “Bilbo! It’s been a while.”

“Far longer than I thought it’d be,” Bilbo admitted, returning the grin. “All’s well?”

“Very.”

“What about the kids?”

“They’re fine,” Ori said. “Dori’s watching them for me tonight. Most he has to worry about it making sure they all stay in bed.”

“Is it hard?”

“Well, a few _are_ teenagers…”

Bilbo hummed. “Must be difficult raising them.”

“I do my best,” Ori said, shrugging. Dwalin and Thorin are communicating silently over them with some sort of sign language.

“We should get going,” Thorin said.

Dwalin scoffed. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to be late. Again.”

“Last year was _not_ my fault!” Thorin snapped at him as they entered the car. Once in, he lowered the dividing glass and flicked Dwalin’s ear. “Some ass decided to try assassinating the bosses and someone had to take care of it, so I took care of it.”

“Didn’t I have to drag your ass out of there?"

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Is this a common occurrence?”

“What? Me and him poking fun?” Dwalin asked. “Yes.”

“I mean the assassination front?”

“Erm…there’s no way to answer that without getting in trouble, is there?” Thorin asked. Bilbo narrowed his eyes. “Angel, I swear, I’ll be more careful.”

“You better.”

“Whipped,” Dwalin said.

“Like you can talk!” Thorin snapped.

Ori turned around and grinned. “Worse than children, aren’t they?”

“I’d say a little better than that,” Bilbo admitted. “I like kids well enough, but I’ve no patience with them. Teenagers are better.”

Ori’s eyes widened and Thorin coughed. “You’re brave,” Ori said. “I only manage three and they drive me up the wall half the time. I kid you not: they get along with Dwalin better.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Dwalin said.

“I know, sweetheart, but you still manage them better than I do.”

Bilbo could feel a headache building and leaned on Thorin’s shoulder. Hopefully the entire night wouldn’t be so draining as the car ride was beginning to feel. Thorin wrapped an arm around him, whispering assurances that it’d not be as bad as Bilbo felt it was bound to be.

Once at city hall, a valet took the car for them.

“Thorin Durin.” Thorin tensed and turned to the speaker. Bilbo followed his gaze. The man was old. His long, silver hair thinning at the top of his head. Half his face bore burn scars and the eye on that half was pure white. He leaned on a cane to keep himself upright. Beside him was a young man, who easily could be the elder’s younger self. To his right was a red haired woman, long hair pulled back into a half-bun.

“Thranduil,” Thorin greeted. “It’s been a long time.”

“So it has. A year to the day, I believe.”

“Not quite, but close enough,” Thorin said. He turned to the younger man. “Legolas.”

“Good evening, Thorin,” Legolas said.

Thranduil cleared his throat. “I believe you stole something from us.”

“Stole?” Thorin asked, arching a brow? “If you mean the territory around the high school, it was necessary. Legolas may have been homeschooled, but Kili is not. It seemed like the best way to make the area safe again.”

Thranduil hummed. “For your nephew?” he asked, his good eye shifting to Bilbo. Thranduil smirked. “Of course it was for your nephew,” he chuckled. “This, I assume is the rumored Mr. Baggins?”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “Yes, Sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“I’m sure,” Thranduil said. Legolas winced though the woman kept still, betraying no emotion. “Watch yourself Mr. Baggins. Bolg is likely inside, unless he's yet to arrive.”

Thorin clenched and unclenched his fists as Thranduil climbed the stairs.

“That was…” Bilbo cut himself off, unsure how to describe the exchange.

“Terrible,” Thorin muttered. “Old fucker really needs to step down and retire. His _son_ has more manners than he does.”

“The blond man beside him, I guess?” Bilbo asked as they walked up the stairs.

“Yes.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t peg him to get into territorial disputes.”

“You’ll see why later. He and Sigrid have a _long_ history.”

“Sigrid is Bard’s daughter?”

“His eldest daughter. This would be Bain’s first time at a party like this now that he’s fifteen. His youngest, Tilda, will be at home. She’s about seven.”

Bilbo hummed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see Bard again. And he certainly hoped he’d never see _Bolg_ again at all. Still, Bilbo figured it couldn’t be helped. Once inside, Bilbo took a breath. Men in suits and women in elaborate evening gowns mingled over champagne and— _are those little sausages?!_

Bilbo smiled. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Look who decided to show up at last!” Frerin called, approaching them.

“We’re on time,” Thorin snapped.

“For once.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Frerin ignored him and turned to Bilbo. He whistled. “What did I tell you? Did I not say he’d be hot when I was done with him?” Bilbo’s cheeks burned and he waved Frerin off. Thorin’s arm tightened protectively around Bilbo’s shoulders. “Try not to choke him, Thorin.”

“Piss off,” Thorin snapped. Bilbo pushed his arm off before he was choked.

“Maybe we should get out of the doorway?” he asked. Dwalin and Ori had already disappeared among the guests. Thorin nodded, glaring at Frerin.

“Start with Dad. He might recognize Bilbo, but you still need to introduce him _properly_ this time.”

“Oi! We weren’t even dating when he met Dad!”

“Still need to do it,” Frerin said, smirking.

“Why you—”

Bilbo looped his arm around Thorin’s arm and dragged him away from Frerin before more irreparable damage could be done. He didn’t know if anything _would_ happen, but Bilbo figured it was better to not risk it. “You are not getting into a fight with your brother,” he snapped. “Not tonight. Save it for when you can afford to be a buffoon.”

“Yes, dear,” Thorin said, feigning chastisement. “I suppose we _should_ go greet my father.”

Bilbo hummed. “Hopefully this time won’t be so…terrifying.”

“What are you talking about?” Thorin said, smirking. “My father likes you.”

“He was mad at me because I told Kili to follow his dreams rather than remain loyal to the family.”

Thorin didn’t answer, or deemed it wiser not to argue. Instead, he kissed Bilbo’s hand. “I promise it won’t be so frightening this time,” he said. It’d been weeks since Bilbo first met Thrain and still his heart beat rapidly in his chest as they approached the Durin Mafia’s leader. Thrain looked them over once.

“So it _is_ you,” he said, staring at Bilbo. “I thought it might be.”

“Uh…yes, sir.”

Thrain nodded. “Enjoy the party, Mr. Baggins. Ah! Azog, I wondered if you’d dare to show your face.” Thrain pushed past them and Bilbo watched him approach a balding, middle aged man with menacing eyes and scars all over his body. Bolg stood beside him.

Briefly, Bolg caught Bilbo’s gaze and smirked at him. Thorin squeezed his hand, assuring Bilbo that he was safe. Still, Bolg approached them.

“Still enjoying this fine piece of ass, Durin?” Bolg asked, leering at Bilbo. Bilbo ground his teeth. He had half a mind to let Thorin start fight. He wouldn’t though. Instead, he tightened his hold around Thorin’s arm.

“I believe civility is a part of the purpose of this party, Bolg. I would… _appreciate_ it if you did not insult my partner,” Thorin growled.

“Bolg!” Azog snapped. He squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Behave yourself.”

“Yes, Father,” Bolg muttered, rolling his eyes. He looked at Bilbo again. “Mr. Baggins, may I introduce my father and leader of the Gundebad Family, Azog Gundebad.”

Bilbo swallowed. “It’s nice to meet you,” he lied. Azog arched a brow at him.

“You’re tastes are improving, Oakenshield,” he said. “Enjoy the party.” The duo passed them by and Bilbo released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

It was going to be a long night.


	23. Chapter 23

Bilbo excused himself to get some fresh air out on the balcony while Thorin spoke with other Mafioso about how they planned to rectify their businesses. He leaned on the railing and sighed. It wasn’t a bad night, now that he thought about it: cloudy, but no rain.

“Care for a drink?”

Bilbo looked at Smaug and frowned. “I don’t drink alcohol,” he said. “But the offer is appreciated, I suppose.” Smaug shrugged and set the spare glass down.

“I suppose you’re enjoying yourself?”

Bilbo pulled his glasses off and massaged his eyes. “What do you want?”

“That is none of your concern,” Smaug said. “So, I asked you once why you were with Thorin and you gave me a rather interesting answer.”

“That I love him is an interesting answer to you?”

“Love?” Smaug asked. “Do you really think anyone in there is capable of love?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “Everyone is capable of being loved and loving another. Even you.” Smaug finished one glass and picked up the second. “Likewise, everyone is capable of evil.”

“I take it you are also capable of evil.”

“Of course,” Bilbo said. “I just chose not to act on whatever evil desire I have.”

“Ignoring your partner’s profession, compromising your own morals to be with him…how many people could die because you didn’t stop your beloved Thorin ‘Oakenshield’?” Bilbo didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Smaug hummed. “Way I see it, you, Master Baggins, want to think you can change this city through him. You want to think you can make them become good ‘citizens’ and leaders. But deep down you know it’s impossible. Thorin may love you, but he will never change for you.”

“You’re right,” Bilbo said. “He won’t. Maybe I am compromising who I am and what I stand for by staying with him. But that doesn’t change that I love him.”

“You’re not scared of him?”

Bilbo looked at Thorin. He was talking to his sister. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think I’m scared of what he does and I’m scared of what might happen to him.”

“If you break his heart, he might kill you.”

“I’ve no intention of breaking his heart.”

Smaug hummed and sipped again. “Care to make a wager on it?”

“Gambling’s a bad habit,” Bilbo said. “I try to avoid temptation, thanks. Goodnight.”

He left the balcony. The room was almost stifling and Bilbo almost retreated back outside. He stood by Thorin instead and took his hand in his. Thorin didn’t skip a beat in his conversation, but he did give Bilbo’s hand a gentle squeeze. Once the conversation was done, Thorin turned to him.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“As much as I possibly can,” Bilbo sighed. “I’m afraid I’m a bit at a loss for what to do.”

“Don’t scratch your butt,” Thorin advised. Bilbo slapped his arm.

“Behave.”

“It’s a good idea. One I’ve actually tested.”

“I don’t want to know. Heck, I don’t want to know if you dared your brother to pick his nose at one of these functions once!”

Thorin snorted, but did not respond. “Fun’s about to start anyway,” he said, leading him toward Legolas who had entered a glaring match with a young woman in a green evening gown. Guns were aimed at the other and others were watching, unsure what would happen.

“Sigrid?” Bilbo asked. Thorin nodded. “This is madness!" Thranduil was at the bar ordering a martini and Bard was pushing through the crowd, cursing any who got in his way. “What is going on here and be quick because one of them is going to shoot.”

“Let’s just say it’s a long time feud.”

“Oh for God’s sake!” he snapped, untangling himself from Thorin. Bilbo pushed his way through to them and stood between them. “Put those away before you hurt someone!” he shouted. Legolas and Sigrid stared at him as though he was mad. Bilbo thought he might be. He was terrified, but as no one else was moving to stop them. Someone had to.

Sigrid recovered first. “Don’t get in our—”

“Way?” Bilbo snapped, turning to her. He seized her gun and glared at her. “You’re the fool who thinks it’s okay to bring a _gun_ to a party. Let alone believe it’s all right to hold shoot outs at a _school_. Do you think being in the mafia means you get to play cops and robbers? This isn’t a fucking game, little girl. Human lives are on the line. You’re being groomed to be a leader, right? To take over daddy’s gang one day? You think waving a gun around in your rival’s face is going to make you rise in rank faster or something like that? Have you ever thought that, maybe, one day you’ll go home with a bullet in your heart or your head? Have you given thought what that would do to your family? My God! Why is everyone in this fucking town so dedicated to ruining their lives?!”

He turned to Legolas. “You are just as bad! Aren’t you an only child? Are you that eager to throw your life away for a fucking piece of property that wouldn’t really belong to you anyway? What about innocent lives?”

“Those—”

“Are _human lives_ ,” Bilbo said. “They aren’t war casualties. Those lives mean something or could mean something if you weren’t stupid enough to take it. True courage is not about knowing when to take a life but when to spare one. Or is that too much for your pre-programmed upbringing to understand?”

Both of them looked confused, Sigrid was looking for her father, seeking confirmation. Legolas just stared at Bilbo blankly. He sighed. “The two of you can’t even think for yourselves.”

“They don’t need to,” Thranduil said. Bilbo turned to him. “All that they need is the family they have. There is no greater honor than to live and die for the family.”

“So you think your own son is no better than a pawn?” Bilbo asked, hands curling into fists. He knew Erebor was broken, Thorin confirmed it. But to actually see _how_ broken it was. It sickened him. He took a breath and looked at Legolas again. “You don’t have to be loyal to anyone who says your life is meaningless,” he said. “You don’t have to join the Mafia or take over it. No one has the right to treat you like a pawn, Legolas. Not even your own father. Heck, I can’t. What do you want to do?”

Legolas lowered his gaze, gun still in hand. He switched the safety on and put the gun away. Bilbo handed Sigrid’s gun back to her and she also put it away before sweeping away. Her father embraced her and looked at Bilbo.

“Thank you,” Bard mouthed, leading Sigrid away. A pair of hands grabbed Bilbo’s shoulders and led him away into the crowd.

“That was ridiculously stupid!” Thorin snapped as he led Bilbo to a table.

“What was stupid is whatever grudge they have,” Bilbo said, sitting down. His head swam and he shivered uncontrollably.

“Are you going to vomit?” Thorin asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m going to be able to move for a bit. I’m surprised no one’s tried to take Legolas away from his father.”

“Thranduil is old—”

“That’s no excuse.”

Thorin nodded. “You’re right. It’s not. There is no excuse. But there is little any can do without risking causing a war with him.” Bilbo rested his head on the table and groaned. His stomach roiled. Thorin patted his back. “Want me to help you get somewhere before you vomit.”

“Might just be best to make a wall of people around me while I barf,” Bilbo said. “It’d be faster.”

“I’ll get a bucket and give the order,” he said, rubbing Bilbo’s back. Bilbo lowered his head between his knees taking deep breaths.

 _What was I thinking?_ Bilbo thought. _I could’ve gotten killed! It could’ve blown up in my face! I am never doing that again…_

A loud bang startled him. Bilbo looked up in time to see a group of gunmen wearing masks storm inside and started firing on the guests. He felt a weight tackle him to the ground and the table flipped over.

“Stay down!” Thorin shouted, pulling his own gun out.

Bilbo covered his head and focused on his breathing. He looked up and spied Smaug sneaking out of the room. He blinked and glanced at Thorin, then where Smaug went. Bilbo sucked in a breath and ran. Thorin shouted at him to take cover, but Bilbo ignored it. He dove behind the wall and covered his head as the bullets sped past him. He gasped for air for a few moments before getting back up and following Smaug up to the barren second floor.

He found him sneaking into an office and Bilbo followed him inside.

 _Jesus Christ, one act of heroism should be my bloody limit!_ He thought, grabbing a candle holder in both hands. _Maybe should’ve asked Thorin if he had a spare—actually, I’d rather not hold a gun._

He recognized the office. Smaug was holding the white jewel in his hand and turned to Bilbo.

“So you saw me?” Smaug asked.

 “What are you doing?” Bilbo countered.

“What does it look like?” Smaug held the stone up. “This is the Arkenstone. Have you heard the legend yet? That whoever owns this stone owns the town?”

“It’s a superstition.”

“We’ll see. The Durins love this stone. Maybe it’s just a stone, but we’ll see how much stock they put in its…power.” Bilbo brandished the candle holder.

“Put it back,” he ordered. Smaug arched a brow and put the stone in a bag before grabbing Bilbo’s arm and twisting it. He cried out and dropped his weapon. The barrel of a gun pressed against Bilbo’s ribs.

“Shall we go, Mr. Baggins?” Smaug asked, leading him down the stairs. “Unlike those two little brats downstairs, I’m not a child. You’re pretty lectures on morality, love, courage, and so on don’t have any impact on me. Their all just pretty words. Now, are you interested in my wager?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Because I think you will be. Are you sure you don’t want to know what will push Thorin into such a rage that he’d find your life inconsequential? He is a Mafioso, Mr. Baggins. Surely you know that his declarations of love are empty. You must know, deep down, he is using you.”

Bilbo shook his head. He was lying. He had to be lying. The way Thorin acted around him, the smile that graced his face when he was around Bilbo—that couldn’t be faked.

_My angel._

“So, with that in mind,” Smaug led him outside. “Let’s test him, hmm? I’ll give back the Arkenstone in the most unexpected way imaginable. Don’t tell him you know I have it. Don’t tell him you saw me steal it. If you do, it’ll be his blood on _your_ hands. I doubt Thrain will be so forgiving if you kill his precious, eldest son.”

Bilbo’s blood ran cold. The shooters raced by them and Smaug let Bilbo go, gun still aimed at him as he approached a red sedan.

“Enjoy the rest of your night, Mr. Baggins.” He lowered his gun and climbed into the car. Once the car was gone, Bilbo sat down before his legs gave way. His stomach lurched and he headed toward the bushes, heaving whatever food he had in his stomach.

“Bilbo!”

He heaved again, retching again until his stomach was empty. Arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him up to his feet.

“Dwalin, get the car!” Thorin shouted.

The last thing Bilbo registered was that it had begun to rain before he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know what happened here or when Bilbo became so BAMF. He just said. “I wanna be more BAMF” and I said “No there’s a plot to stick to” and he said “fuck that, I wanna be more BAMF so make me more BAMF” and then Thranduil became a shitty dad…I’m running on nothing but coffee and a migraine right now and Bilbo’s not making it any better. Damn it, Bilbo…


	24. Chapter 24

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here a little while longer?” Thorin asked. “We can go to your place and pick up some spare clothes.”

“Tempting as the offer is,” Bilbo said, “I have papers to grade and my students are getting a little fussy.”

“Fussy, huh?”

“Don’t ask. One time, a few weeks ago, the seniors revolted in math class from work overload, so they got the period off for a bit to unwind.”

“Sounds frightening.”

Bilbo shrugged. “It could’ve been worse. You’ll have to ask Kili for the details, though. It wasn’t my class. For which I’m thankful.”

Thorin hummed. “I suppose I will have to ask,” he said.

Bilbo approached him and kissed him.

Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s waist, deepening it. “Must you go?”

“You know where I live and you have a key. Stop whining. Besides, you have work to do. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tonight.”

He walked past Thorin and out the door standing in front of a black car was Thrain and one of his men.

“Mr. Baggins,” he said. “I’d like a word with you, if you don’t mind.”

Bilbo’s throat tightened and his heart dropped to his stomach. He nodded and followed Thrain into the car. Once they were moving, Thrain began his interrogation:

“You saw something last night, did you?”

“Sir?”

“When the gunmen arrived, you didn’t stay put like the other civilians. You ran for the stairs, but where not found on the upper levels of the building. Rather outside. So I ask, did you see anything?”

Bilbo debated telling him…could he? Without risking Thorin’s life?

He sighed. He’d tell the truth. “I did see something, but I am under duress not to say what.”

“Why? Blackmail?”

“No, but similar. If I say anything, I am would be putting someone I care for at risk.”

“Thorin?” Thrain asked. Bilbo nodded.

“All the more reason for me to know,” he said, lighting a cigar. “Mr. Baggins, I am rather supportive of my family and their choices. I know my family is already quite fond of you. You’re a smart man. I can see that, even if you are stupid enough to get between two quarreling brats. I admire your tenacity to protect Thorin, but you forget, he’s been through a lot more than you think. I need to know what you saw.”

“Thorin—”

“Thorin will be all right. He’s been in this life a long time. You may not approve, but he knows what he’s doing. He knows how to protect himself. You don’t need to. So tell me: What did you see?”

Bilbo stared at his hands. “Smaug Drac stole the Arkenstone,” he said. “He threatened to kill Thorin if I told anyone—”

“Anyone or just Thorin?” Thrain asked, “Because if he said ‘anyone,’ then you are in a pickle. If he said ‘Thorin’ then you’re not risking anything by telling me. Either way, if it makes you feel any better, this conversation will never have happened.”

“He said ‘Thorin.’ I just…”

“I understand: you felt if you told anyone else, it might get _back_ to Thorin.”

Bilbo nodded.

Thrain looked out the window. “You’re smarter than you look, braver too. And I know my daughter has tried to talk you into joining our family.”

“I’m not interested in being a Mafioso, Sir.”

“Nor do you need to be if you want to survive in this town. You’re doing better here than you think. Crime committed by teenagers at your school has gone down by three percent since you started working at the high school. When Balin suggested hiring you, I was skeptical. I wasn’t sure you would be able to survive here. I thought you’d last a month or two at most. I was impressed that you lasted so long under the radar and kept your nose clean. It’s odd. Then you showed yourself to be rather stupid by going up against Bolg in defense of your drug-addict landlord. And you’ve since proven to be stupidly brave continuously. I don’t know where you’re lack of self-preservation comes from, but you’re an inspiration to this city, Mr. Baggins. Where did you learn it? Have you a mentor I don’t know about?”

Bilbo looked up, meeting Thrain’s eyes. “Last night, when I…stepped between Legolas and Sigrid…the things I said to them were similar to my godfather’s.”

Thrain hummed. “I’d like to meet him.”

“I’m not sure he’d say the same,” Bilbo said. “But his name is Gandalf Grigio.”

“The photographer?”

“You know of him?”

“I _know_ him. Grigio has been nothing but a pain in my ass at the worst of times.” He chuckled. “But I like that bastard enough, I suppose. No wonder you’re so reckless if he’s your godfather! Never around when he’s wanted.”

Bilbo nodded. Gandalf was rather…eccentric at the best of times. “I’ve not seen him in years,” he admitted. “Then I got an email with a link to Erebor High’s website from him. He always pushed me to do things I never really wanted to do, but even then, I usually came out of them…better, I guess. Different, but better.”

“Do you think you’re better now?” Thrain asked.

“I’m dating the son of a Mob Boss,” Bilbo said. “I’m pretty sure my sense of right and wrong has only been skewed since I moved here.”

Thrain took a long drag from the cigar and blew the smoke out the window. “I’ve one more question for you, Mr. Baggins: is Smaug Drac responsible for the recent thefts?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Bilbo said. “But I think it’s safe to guess that he might be responsible for them.” From there, Thrain was silent. Bilbo wished he’d say something—anything to relieve his discomfort.

Finally, the car stopped outside the apartment. “Mr. Baggins,” Thrain said as Bilbo reached to open the door. He looked at him. “Your cooperation is appreciated. And as I had promised, this conversation never happened. If anyone asks, we were discussing your relationship with Thorin.”

“I understand, Mr. Durin,” Bilbo said.

The door was opened for Bilbo and he left the car. He watched it drive away and once it had disappeared from Bilbo’s sight, he went to his flat. The door was open. Bilbo knew he locked it before leaving with Thorin and he reached for his phone, wondering if he should call someone. A man stepped out and looked at him.

“Mr. Drac would like a word with you,” he said, peering at Bilbo behind sunglasses. Bilbo loosened his grip on his phone and entered the apartment.

Smaug is reading one of his student’s essays. “This is drivel,” he said, waving the essay in front of Bilbo. “How ever do you stand it?”

“I believe the quality of my students’ work is my own to judge,” Bilbo said, crossing his arms. “If it is ‘drivel’ I will grade it accordingly.”

Smaug scoffed. “I suppose you don’t want anyone telling you how to do your job,” he said. “I can respect that.”

Bilbo took a deep breath. “Give the Arkenstone back to the Durins.”

Smaug chuckled, “You are an amusing man, Mr. Baggins. That would go against our wager. You’ve not told Thorin about it, have you?”

“No.”

“Good,” Smaug said. “I’d hate to see what would happen if he knew. Because if he did, he’d have a closed casket funeral. It wouldn’t be pretty. Well, that depends on your definition of ‘pretty.’”

“You don’t have to do this,” Bilbo said, “Please.”

“Don’t beg, it doesn’t become you,” Smaug snapped, standing. “Besides, the fun’s just beginning. Why would I stop now?” He patted Bilbo’s shoulder and left, his men following after him. They closed the door behind him.

Bilbo sighed and collapsed on a chair, hiding his face in his hands. He shivered.

 _What am I going to do? Do I tell Thrain?_ He lowered his hands and removed his glasses as his vision blurred. _I don’t think I can do this…_

He took a deep breath and stood heading for his room for a much needed shower.

 _After this, get dressed and make some tea before getting to work,_ he told himself. It seemed like the best plan—at least for now.

As he gathered fresh clothes to change into after his shower, Bilbo bumped his knee against his dresser and cried out, muttering curses as he sat on his pillows, massaging his knee through grit teeth, only to stand again when he felt something being smothered beneath them. He moved his pillows out of the way and stared at the Arkenstone.

_Fuck!_

He picked it up and went back to the living room to grab his phone. He needed to tell Thrain—

His phone rang as he picked it up. Bilbo stared at the number unsure whether to answer. But he did, hoping it wasn’t anything to worry about.

“Hello?”

“ _Did I forget to tell you that I was leaving the stone with you_?” Smaug asked. “ _My sincerest apologies, Mr. Baggins. It seemed like such a good idea._ ”

“I’m just going to give it back to them. What would be the point of leaving it with me—”

“ _There is no point. It’s just fun. Did you think I’d break into your shitty flat just to have a chat? No. I figured I’d up the stakes. This time, the whole family will suffer if you tell anyone you have the stone or try to return it. If you try to return it, you’ll just be found responsible for the theft anyway. Either way, you’re screwed_.”

“You’re framing me?”

“ _Yeah. Why not? It’s all good fun, don’t you think_?”

He hung up and Bilbo lowered the phone. He felt sick again. He dropped the stone and fled to the bathroom. He pushed the toilet seat up and collapsed to the ground in front of it, heaving into the bowl as his breakfast came up.

Was Smaug watching him? Did he also install hidden cameras?

If so, then he was stuck. Smaug might know if he dared to tell Thrain or anyone. His arm was twisted behind his back. If he didn’t tell anyone, someone would find the Arkenstone in his possession anyway. They might even think he was behind the thefts. And if he did, Smaug would destroy Thorin and his family. Bilbo didn’t think he could bear that.

Maybe if he found a way to tell Thrain without Smaug knowing…

He shook his head. He needed to think clearly. He couldn’t make a rash decision or Smaug would know…maybe. Bilbo’s hands shook as he flushed the toilet.

_What am I going to do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grigio=Grey/Gray in Italian (I hope…) 
> 
> http://www.omniglot.com/language/colours/italian.php


	25. Chapter 25

Bilbo tapped his pen against the paper as Kili’s group gave a presentation on _The Lady of Shalott_. A story of a woman secluded from the world with a mirror as her only window to the world around her until a knight came and made her abandon her loom and thus sealed her doom rather than rescue her.

Bilbo wanted to laugh at himself.

He wondered how it paralleled to his life. Is he the knight or the lady in this…retelling? For a long time, Thorin had called him his angel. Now it seemed like a joke.

It was always ever just a pet name and perhaps an apt one a long time ago. Bilbo felt like he’d been put on a pedestal so high he could never hope to do more than just fall from it, become a human in Thorin’s eyes again. And that, it seemed, was what hurt most.

Thorin saw him, but what did he really see?

What did he think when he saw Bilbo?

What would he do if Bilbo fell?

He records the grade for Kili’s group and dismisses them back to their seats, glancing at the clock. Five minutes. Just enough time to go over their exam.

“Great job, guys,” he said, approaching the front of the room. “We’ve a few minutes left, so listen up: there’s no final exam—”

The cheers drowned him out and he whistled to get their attention back.

“But there is a final paper,” he said. “Some of you have already talked to me about what your paper will be on, but others have not. Your paper must be an analytical paper on a piece of literature of your choice _at least_ one thousand words in length.”

This was met with groans.

“That’s not even five pages, so stop whining. You will e-mail it to me at eleven-fifty-nine that night at the latest. You can meet with me at break times or after school if you like, but there’s three weeks left, so tell me what you’re papers will be on as soon as possible. I’ll give you today and tomorrow to talk to me about your papers.”

The bell rang and they began shuffling their things into their bags.

Bilbo watched them file out of the room before returning to his desk and held his head in his hands, elbows pressed to his desk.

The Arkenstone weighed heavily on his mind. He wasn’t sure how he’ll make it through the day. He stared at his phone and sighed.

Threat or no threat, he needed to tell someone and at the moment, the only one he knew he would help him was either Gandalf or Thrain. Bilbo reached for the phone and dialed Thrain’s number at city hall.

He was met with a static beeping dial tone.

 _Okay, don’t panic,_ he told himself, hanging up. _Maybe it’s just busy._

He hung up and called Gandalf.

_What if it’s tapped?_

“ _Hello?_ ” Gandalf said.

Bilbo’s throat tightened.

“ _Hello? Who is this?_ ”

Bilbo hung up. He took a breath.

_He wouldn’t go that far to make me keep the Arkenstone secret, would he? He probably wouldn’t need to, obviously? But…_

He took another breath in hopes of calming down.

 _I’ll go to Thrain in person after school,_ he decided. _After school._

The day went as normally as expected since and when the final hours came, Balin entered the room as Bilbo listened to a girl’s decision to do a paper on _Pride and Prejudice_. He was pale and seemed to sway where he stood.

“Headmaster?” One of the boys in the room said, drawing attention to him.

Bilbo stood and excused himself. “Balin, what’s wrong?”

“There’s been an attack,” he said, “At city hall more than an hour ago on the top floor. Thrain, Thranduil, and Azog are dead. Bard is critically injured. It was just the four of them up there.”

Bilbo blinked. Thrain was dead? “Why are you telling me?”

“Because you need to go to Thorin,” Balin said. “It took me an hour to convince him to stay home. He’s in no state to drive right now. I also need you to take Kili home, if you don’t mind doing so.”

“Oh, of course, but…why not just have one of their drivers do it? They’ve plenty?”

“Bilbo, the next twenty-four hours are going to be crucial and, if anything, it’s not going to be as stable a transition as it should be. Not with the robberies and the theft of the Arkenstone.”

“The Arkenstone?” Bilbo asked, feeling slimy from the inside out. “I thought that was just an urban myth that whoever held it had power. You don’t think that’d be contested, do you?”

“It is just a myth, but you would be surprised how many people put stock in myth,” Balin said. “You need to leave now. Bilbo, be careful. It’ll be chaos out there.”

Bilbo nodded. He didn’t understand why the Durins wouldn’t be able to spare a car for Kili at a time like this. They always managed to before. His brother usually dropped him off and picked him up.

Why would that change now?

He’d ask about it later, but he had a nagging suspicion that this wasn’t a coincidence. He told Thrain that Smaug had the Arkenstone just before Smaug gave it to him.

What if Smaug found out?

Would he kill Thrain, then, if he knew?

But if so, why kill the other leaders?

Bilbo told his students to meet with him tomorrow and followed Balin to his office. Kili sat in the chair, staring at his hands, strands of hair escaping his hair tie as if he’d been running his hands through it.

“Kili?” Bilbo whispered. Kili looked at him.

“It’s not true, is it?” he asked, blinking. “My grandpa really isn’t…is he?”

Bilbo sighed. “I’m not the one to ask, Kili.”

He helped him up. Kili seemed to wobble and Bilbo feared he’d collapse. But Kili steadied himself and grabbed his backpack before following Bilbo out of the school. The other students walked around them, oblivious, laughing, and unseeing.

Kili looked around. Bilbo guessed he was trying to spot his brother or another Mafioso. Someone familiar. Bilbo cleared his throat.

“Balin asked me to take you home.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “He said something about instability.”

“That’s no reason for them to forget me—”

“I don’t think they did. I don’t know for sure, but it’s possible that it’s simply not safe to drive for anyone in your family right now,” Bilbo said.

Kili clenched at the straps of his backpack and glared at his shoes. He followed Bilbo off campus. Bilbo didn’t like the idea of walking in such a chaotic mess and wondered if he ought to wave for the taxi when it stopped by—

Kili stopped him. “We can’t trust anyone right now. Especially those we don’t know.”

“It’s not safe to walk.”

“It’s not safe to use public transportation now either,” Kili said. “I can fight if it comes to it.”

Bilbo didn’t like that either, but decided it was better than nothing, so they continued on their way. “You did a good job on your presentation today,” he said.

Kili hummed, pulling his phone out. “Thanks,” he said. Another fifteen minutes passed agonizingly slow and awkward before another word was spoken. “I met someone at the party.”

“Not someone too old for you, I hope,” Bilbo said. _Finally!_

“Well, he’s younger than you are, if that’s what you mean. And you’re not old, Bilbo. Twenty-eight is _not_ old. Fifty is old.”

“Fair enough,” Bilbo said. “Who is this lucky guy? Or girl?”

“Guy. And I’m not saying _anything_. At least not yet and certainly not now,” Kili said. “Just…maybe after I graduate I’ll introduce him to my family. That’s not too soon, is it?”

“I doubt it,” Bilbo said. “Well, whenever you’re ready to reveal your new boyfriend, I’m sure you’ll have your family’s support.”

Kili frowned at that. “I’m not so sure,” he admitted. Bilbo hummed.

“Well, you’ll have my support and I’ll certainly talk to your uncle about it.”

Kili stopped them and Bilbo looked in the direction Kili stared in. It was city hall. The building was completely scorched. The fire had been doused, but the street had been blocked and the police stood guard. Kili ran across the street to them. Bilbo called after him before he followed.

“I’m his grandson. I just want to know what really happened,” Kili said. The officer ignored him, telling him to move on. Bilbo pulled him away. “But I want to know!”

“Kili,” Bilbo snapped. “You’ll find out what happened later. The investigation has _just_ started. You need to give them some more time. Come on. Sooner you’re home, the better. We don’t want to worry your family, don’t we?”

“But—”

“Hey, look at me.” Kili obeyed. “I know it’s not okay and I know this is not how you expected your grandfather to die, but you _need_ to pull yourself together at least you’re home.”

“But—”

“Kili, there is going to be an investigation. If not from the police, then most certainly among the Mafia. Your parents and your uncles will find out what happened. I do not believe they’d leave you in the dark if you ask them not to.”

The rest of the walk to the Durins’ is silent. When they arrive home, Dis greets them, pulling Kili into a hug. He isn’t sure if he should go inside and once they’ve disappeared behind the door, Bilbo decided to go home.

“Where are you going?”

He turned around to see Thorin leaning against one of the pillars. “I wasn’t sure if I should come in.”

“Why not?” Thorin asked.

“I’m not family,” Bilbo said.

Thorin stared at him long enough to make Bilbo wonder if he _should_ leave. Then Thorin descended the steps and embraced him.

“Don’t go,” he whispered. “Please stay with me tonight.”

Bilbo licked his lips and swallowed. He needed to tell Thorin he knew where the Arkenstone was. Needed to tell him about Smaug’s threats. He was the only one he could trust now.

Thorin clung to him tighter and Bilbo returned the hug.

“I’ll stay tonight.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers, you might want to consider emotionally preparing yourselves before reading this chapter. Don't forget the tissues and ice cream.

Each family would have their own private ceremony where the next in line would take over. Bilbo didn’t like the idea of Bolg running anything. And Legolas even less, though for an entirely different reason. The three siblings stood unified, seemingly impenetrable unless one knew them. Bilbo didn’t know Thorin’s siblings very well, but he knew Thorin.

Thorin wouldn’t show that he was distraught to the others. To Erebor, he was Oakenshield, unbreakable, strong, unmovable. No one but Bilbo knew how tightly he held him the night before. No one else saw his tears, which Bilbo had to assure him were not shameful. No one else kissed them away or whispered _I’m here_ and _I love you_.

He probably said _I’m not going anywhere_ if he was sure he wouldn’t be. As it was, with the Arkenstone in his possession, it was only a matter of time before he’d be discovered. By Thorin or someone else, he wasn’t sure. Several times he tried to tell him. _I know where the Arkenstone is._ Fear and timing stopped him. So Bilbo just stroked Thorin’s hair and let him sleep.

Bilbo knew he’d have to find a way to get it back to Thorin somehow, and telling him seemed to be the safest way, but he kept looking over his shoulder to see if he was being watched. For whatever reason, Bilbo thought he saw Smaug’s men everywhere, ready to strike if he were to tell Thorin anything.

After the ceremony, there was a dinner, people expressing condolences and congratulations in the same breath to the trio while Bilbo almost felt like useless arm candy—he knew Thorin didn’t think of him that way, but it was hard not to think it in a setting so more used to Thorin’s presence than Bilbo’s—or an invisible wallflower. One kept him close to Thorin, the other made others pass him by without a second glance. Bilbo wasn’t sure which he preferred.

“Still have it?”

He looked at Smaug and glared at him. “You have a lot of nerve coming here.”

“Well, it’d be rude to turn down an invitation to greet the new leaders of the Durin Family. Besides, what do you mean by nerve?” He smirked at Bilbo, who turned away from him, disgusted. “So, do you still have it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’d hate to see what would happen if someone found it before schedule. Now, can I get you another drink? Water, right? Or would you rather have sparkling cider?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

Smaug shrugged. “Suit yourself. Good evening Mr. Durin.” Thorin acknowledged Smaug silently with a slight nod before turning to Bilbo, who took his hand and let Thorin lead him outside.

“Feeling all right?”

“A bit faint,” Thorin admitted. Bilbo hummed. The rain pattered heavily, beating the leaves of bushes and trees beyond the porch. “My father’s not even had a funeral yet and everyone’s asking me and my brother and sister what we plan to do about the Arkenstone. It disappeared sometime between the spring party and the explosion.”

Bilbo felt a lump forming in his throat. “The Arkenstone’s just that, though, right? A stone? It doesn’t really do anything.”

“It is. Technically, Frerin, Dis, and I don’t need it to back our authority. However, some believe that if we have it, Legolas and Bolg won’t try to take over as the leading family. They think it’ll start a war.”

“Will it?”

“Sadly, it could if they put enough stock into it. I hope not. The stone doesn’t do anything. It’s just a pretty rock. Yet…”

“You think you need it?”

“I think with it missing, Erebor’s looking at…well…I don’t know. I…Bilbo I don’t want to scare you, but you should know that the next few days could be dangerous.”

Bilbo bit his lip and stared out at the dark, illuminated by a few lights. He sighed.

_Now. Tell him now._

“Thorin, I need to tell you something. I—” he paused, noticing that Smaug stood in the doorway a gun in his hand. He pressed a finger to his lips. “I…” Bilbo swallowed. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

Thorin nodded and embraced him. “Tell me what’s really going on later.”

Bilbo clutched at the suit, biting his lower lip. He had to get it back to him. But how?

#

He buried the stone in the bottom of his bag, extra clothes and essentials piled on top of it. Deciding to stay with the Durins was the closest thing he could think of to get the stone back to them undetected. Dwalin was looking around, frowning.

“You know your place is bugged, right?” he asked when Bilbo returned from his room.

He paled. “I had hoped not.”

Dwalin narrowed his eyes at him. “What’s going on?”

Bilbo glanced around. “Not here. And I should…I should leave this here.” He pulled his phone out and left it on the table. “It…might not be, but I don’t want to take any risks.”

Dwalin hummed, letting Bilbo lead the way. Once in the car, Bilbo told him of Smaug’s threat.

“Knew it!” Dwalin snarled, smacking his hand on the steering wheel. “Does he have it? Do you know?”

“The Arkenstone?” Bilbo asked. “He…did. But…Oh…” He knelt down. “He…he gave it to me. I didn’t say anything before because he’s threatening to kill Thorin. I have it with me in my bag.”

“Good. You can tell Thorin the truth.”

Bilbo shook his head, feeling queasy. He rolled the window down and gulped in the air. “Why aren’t you mad at me?” he asked.

Dwalin drummed his fingers against the wheel. “You aren’t the kind of person to betray those you care for. Not without a good reason. Thorin trusts you. So do I. You’re a crazy son-of-a-bitch at times, but you’d never do something like this. Not unless you believed you were helping. So, you’re going to give it back. Aren’t you?”

“Somehow.”

“Just give it to him.”

“And if Smaug is there? He’ll kill Thorin.”

“Have you any fucking idea how much he’s survived? He won’t die easily.”

“I suppose I could give it to him in private,” he said. Dwalin nodded. Bilbo leaned back in his seat and clutched his stomach. He wasn’t sure he could do this without risking Thorin’s life. Surviving a lot of shit didn’t make him invulnerable. Thorin could die if Bilbo made the wrong move.

He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.

Bilbo decided it’d be easier to sneak it back to them…

They stopped at the house only long enough for Bilbo to drop his bag off before joining the family in a limo on the way to a church where Thrain’s funeral would be held.

The funeral was private.

Only those the Durins considered relatives were allowed to attend. Bilbo, somehow, was considered one of them—perks of being “Oakenshield’s beau” or something of that sort. Bilbo wasn’t sure he should’ve been there. It would’ve been the ideal time to sneak it back to Thorin, after all…

Thorin squeezed Bilbo’s hand and Bilbo looked up at him. He was needed here, by his side. “I love you,” he whispered. _Please remember that, no matter what happens next. Remember I love you._

#

Staying awake wasn’t the hardest part of getting the Arkenstone back to him. It was not waking him up while returning the stone. Dwalin had urged him to simply give it to Thorin, and perhaps that would’ve been the wisest move to make, but with Smaug’s threat hanging over him, Bilbo couldn’t do it.

Perhaps it was riskier to do it this way—the stone could be stolen again, after all, or worse…Bilbo didn’t want to think about it—but at least Smaug wouldn’t be able to kill Thorin or his family for _telling_ anyone. It was the only loophole Bilbo could find.

He entered Thorin’s office and set the stone on the desk—the lights turned on and Bilbo gasped, turning around. Thorin stared at him, amused.

“Sleepwalking?” he asked.

Bilbo swallowed. “I…” _Say something!_ The amusement vanished as Thorin caught sight of something behind Bilbo. “I’m sorry. Smaug…” Thorin approached the desk, looking over Bilbo’s shoulder. “He…I would’ve said something sooner, but Smaug threatened…I should’ve told you—”

“Yes, you should have,” Thorin snapped. “I could and would have protected you had you just _told_ me before!”

“It wasn’t me he threatened! He threatened _you_!”

“You still should’ve told me, Bilbo!” Thorin banged his fist against the desk.

 _It’s back now, though_ , almost climbed out of Bilbo’s mouth, but he swallowed them down. Somehow, he didn’t think that mattered. “What do you want me to say?” Bilbo asked. Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know what else to do—”

“That is bullshit!” Thorin snapped.

“You don’t even need the stone!”

“And that is beside the point!”

“Is it?” Bilbo shouted. “Family heirloom or not, it’s just a stupid, shiny rock!”

“This is not about the fucking rock!” Thorin snarled. “This is about _you_ losing your head because some _snake_ threatened me even though you are aware I can take care of myself!”

“I’m sorry! Forgive me for failing to notice that since I met you _bleeding to death in an alley_! Somehow I do not equate that to ‘being able to take care of yourself,’ Thorin!”

“God damn it, Bilbo that is just _one_ incident of many! I have had my life threatened since I was a teenager! You think _this_ is any different? You cannot protect me. I do not _need_ to be protected! Not from Smaug or anyone else!”

“But you don’t _have_ to live looking over your shoulder every moment wondering who’s going to try and kill you next,” Bilbo whispered. “Thorin, you’re a smart man. You don’t have to be a criminal. I love you, and I am trying to accept it. I’ve done my best to accept who you are. But I don’t think I can keep turning a blind eye to what you do if others, like Smaug, keep pulling me into their schemes and try to use me against you. I don’t want to be your weak spot.”

“Then don’t,” Thorin said.

Bilbo froze, feeling as though he’d been slapped. How was he supposed to not be a weakness to an otherwise unbreakable man? Smaug already used him to drive a wedge between the two of them. Who’s to say someone wouldn’t do it again? Bilbo opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, he licked is lips instead and lowered his eyes.

Thorin sighed. “Bilbo, I’m—”

“I think I’ll just go home,” he said. “Don’t bother waking someone. I’m sure I can get a taxi…maybe.”

“Bilbo, you can’t go out this time of night, it’s too dangerous.”

“Then I’ll leave in the morning,” Bilbo said. “But I can’t…”

Thorin cupped his cheek and Bilbo looked up. “I am sorry for yelling at you. Bilbo, believe me: you are not my weakness. You’ve been my strength for a while now. I knew people would see you as my weakness and maybe they’re right. But you are not weak and this—”

“Isn’t something I should be expected to handle,” Bilbo said. “Clearly, I can’t. I can’t stay. I won’t be the person your enemies use to get to you.” He swallowed. “I do love you, but I…I’m sorry.”

He stepped away from Thorin and went to the bedroom to gather his things. Thorin had the Arkenstone back. That’s all that matters. When he left, he didn’t look back only to avoid seeing the stricken, heartbroken glimmer in Thorin’s eyes.


	27. Chapter 27

He walks through the last three weeks almost in a daze, handing his letter of resignation to Balin a week after returning the stone. And he continued to edit the letter he had written for Thorin between grading his students work, moving into a hotel for the time being, and arranging to go back to the Shire.

At the graduation ceremony, Thorin tried to corner him, but Bilbo evaded him and thankfully, Legolas’ arrival with a bouquet he gave to Kili was enough to distract Thorin long enough for Bilbo to get away. He couldn’t avoid him forever. Bilbo knew that.

Bilbo expected to glance back at the city as he boarded the train. From the smog to the sirens, the grey and glass buildings…

He didn’t, though. There was nothing holding him here. But he wouldn’t return to the Shire the same as he was before. That much was unavoidable.

#

“You’ve mail,” Dis said, tossing the envelopes on Thorin’s desk. “Are you sure you don’t want us—”

Thorin jumped and seized her arm. “Don’t go after him,” he sneered.

“He hurt you,” Dis said. “He knows what you’ve gone through and still he broke your heart.”

“Not because he wanted to,” Thorin said. He saw the way Bilbo’s face fell when Thorin tried to tell him he wasn’t his weakness. “I should’ve worded what I meant better. I should’ve prepared him for…Dis, just leave him alone.”

She arched a brow and Thorin sat back down, looking at the mail Dis delivered him. One was from Bilbo. Thorin ripped it open.

_Thorin,_

_I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you needed me to be. I never meant for anyone to get hurt. Thrain knew I had it and I fear that that is why he was killed. I don’t know if that is true or not, it’s just how I feel about his death and that might hang on my shoulders for the rest of my life. I didn’t know what to do but to sneak it back. It seemed like the only way I could get the stone back to you._

_I felt I needed to protect you and I suppose I was wrong to think that, but I never wanted you to think I was the only one who needed to be protected. I love you, Thorin, and I never wanted to be used as a means to get close to you and possibly hurt you. And yet I ended up hurting you anyway. By the time you’ll be reading this, I should be at home in the Shire, helping my cousins take care of their baby._

_Thorin, never think I meant for any of this to happen. I saw a side I never expected nor wanted to see and I’m glad I did. I was terrified, at first. You know how pushy you were, even a little bit scary to me. I think I expected you to be worse than you were. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you weren’t what I expected. Still, I hope someone else who could be better than me—someone who won’t be your enemies’ tool—will be able to see that beneath the Family you’re a kind and compassionate man._

_I feel as though I failed you, Thorin…_

He set it down, hiding his face in his hands and focused on his breathing. Once composed, he opened Skype and called the other families.

“Legolas, Bolg, Sig—”

“ _Nope,_ ” Bard said. “ _I’m back_.”

“Even better,” Thorin said. “Who wants to slay a dragon?”

#

Bilbo hummed a lullaby under his breath, bouncing as he paced the nursery, sometimes tickling Frodo’s tummy. He was usually quiet, only crying when he really needed something done. Like a nappy change or food. Mostly, he was as quiet as a mouse, quite happy with his puzzles and games. The musical ones could induce a headache, but for the most part, Frodo was absolutely delightful.

He heard groaning from outside hall and Primula entered, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Is hungry?” Bilbo shook his head.

“Not that I’m aware,” he said. She nodded. “Sleep well?”

“A little too well,” Prim said, rubbing her eyes. “Thank you for this, Bilbo.”

“It’s no problem,” he said with a shrug.

Prim hummed. “I’ll go put breakfast on, yeah?”

“Sure,” Bilbo said, following her to the kitchen with Frodo still in his arms.

When Frodo began to fuss, he took over cooking while Prim took him. Once in his mother’s arms, Frodo stopped fussing and clapped his hands over her cheeks, giggling.

“Little trickster,” Prim cooed, kissing his hands and his cheeks. Once the eggs were ready, she spooned them to Frodo, making airplane noises. Frodo bounced in his seat, laughing between bites.

After breakfast, Prim took over washing and dressing Frodo while Bilbo hunted for new positions around England. There had to be someplace other than Erebor that was in need of a new high school English teacher.

“Still staying in?”

“I might go to a café later,” Bilbo said. “But it’s not like I’ve any plans.”

Prim propped Frodo higher on her waist. “I don’t know what happened between you and this guy, Bilbo, but you know Drogo and I are here for you when you’re ready to talk.”

“God on your walk,” Bilbo said, shooing her. Frodo tried to mimic him tin fingers clenching and unclenching.

“Mama!”

“Yes, sweetie, very good,” she said, kissing his forehead. “Enjoy your brooding solitude.”

“I don’t brood,” Bilbo snapped.

“Brood!” Frodo shouted, pointing at Bilbo. Primula laughed and Bilbo bowed his head, shaking it. He wasn’t _brooding_. Thorin was more likely to brood than Bilbo was, thank you very much.

Once the front door closed, he bumped is head against the wall. He sighed closing his eyes. _Maybe I should think of dating again, even if just for the sake of having a distraction…_

He gathered his things and headed to Buckland Café—owned and run by Primula’s sister Amaranth after their mother retired. Amaranth winked at him when he walked in.

“You look like you need a tea,” she said. “Chamomile for the nerves?”

“Please,” Bilbo said, offering her a smile before taking a seat near the back looking outside into the countryside. A minute later, she set a light blue porcelain cup in front of him with a plate of shortbread cookies Bilbo thanked her and set his things up around the steaming cup. He had an e-mail from Gandalf. Bilbo sighed and opened it.

_Bilbo! How are you? Balin told me you quit the job at Erebor. Why? What happened?  –Gandalf_

Bilbo shook his head. Leave it to Gandalf to be short and to the point. He’d have to wait to respond as there was _no way_ he could adequately take the time to explain what happened in Erebor.

He closed his e-mail tab and perused through the job listings…

“May I sit here?”

Bilbo jumped, looking up. “Thorin?” He blinked, trying to rid himself of the apparition. Thorin still stood in front of him. “You…I…yes, please sit.” He closed his laptop. Thorin was dressed casually for once, hair tied at the base of his neck. A waitress took his order for a regular black coffee and walked off.

“Please tell me you’re here on business,” Bilbo said. “I really don’t want to think you’re stalking me.”

“If I was, I wouldn’t be sitting across a table from you. No, I’m not here on business.” Bilbo picked up his tea, taking slow sips. His heart continued to race erratically. “I read your letter.”

“I had hoped you would. But I would’ve understood if you didn’t.”

“You were avoiding me the last few weeks, and running this far—”

“I wasn’t running away,” Bilbo said. Thorin arched a brow. Bilbo slumped his shoulders. “I stayed because I thought I had something to stay for after we started going out and I wasn’t sure what to expect after…everything. Coming home seemed like the best course of action until I found a new job.”

“Home,” Thorin said. The waitress returned and set his coffee down in front of him. Thorin thanked her and turned back to Bilbo. “This is where you came from? You never made any mention to good memories here.”

“We were together only a few months,” Bilbo hissed. “And I grew up here. Yes, it was difficult after my mother died, but the doesn’t mean everything here was terrible.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, it’s just that Erebor is your home.  You belong there.”

“No, I don’t. And I put you in danger. I’m not capable of living in an environment where I can’t expect to be safe.” Thorin grabbed his hand.

“You were _never_ in danger. You’re not weak. You’re not my weakness. Bilbo, when I told you to not be my weakness, I wasn’t breaking up with you. I was angry, I will not deny that. But I was more upset that you didn’t trust me to be able to take care of myself. I don’t need another guard. Dwalin’s always been more than capable. He’s my best friend and my partner. We’ve survived a lot together, so trust me when I say I don’t need you to protect me. You know why I was bleeding in that alley and you know that I wouldn’t be standing here if you didn’t do anything. You’re stronger than you think. You’re not a weakness that anyone is going to be able to exploit. I’m not saying it wasn’t frightening. I know you must have been terrified and even then, you still defied Smaug and brought me the Arkenstone. You are the bravest man I know, Bilbo.”

“Do your siblings know that?”

“They don’t know what happened. They know you had the Arkenstone and that we broke up, but I’ve yet to convince them that none of this is your fault. Frerin and Dis can be pretty stubborn and I’m doing what I can to hold them back. Which brings me to the other thing I need to tell you: Smaug’s dead.”

Bilbo blinked. “He’s what?”

“After you left, after I read your letter, I called the other families and told them what you knew and we agreed that Smaug had to go. Bolg found Smaug’s man and extracted information from him.” Bilbo winced. “Yeah, that’s all I’m going to say. Everyone got what was taken from them back and we hunted him down. Bard shot him in the heart.”

“So he’s dead? And you know this for sure?”

“We all were there at the autopsy,” Thorin said. “He’s dead.”

“But his family—”

“The Dracs are a cold blooded group. If it were one of my siblings, my family, I’d want blood. Smaug’s father didn’t care that we killed him. He just shrugged, said it proved he was weak. And you know, I thought Azog and Thranduil were cold-blooded bastards, but _that_ …”

Bilbo nodded. It was horrible. “So he’s dead and that’s…it?”

Thorin shrugged. “That was his father. I can’t guarantee that Smaug’s brothers won’t retaliate, but for now, everything’s back to normal.”

“You’ve yet to tell me why you’re here, Thorin.”

“I was just about to get into that. As I said, wasn’t breaking up with you. I was angry, but not enough to not want you.”

“I didn’t want to either, I just,” Bilbo sighed. “I don’t want to be your weakness.”

Thorin squeezed his hand. “Bilbo, my angel, you never were. That is what I meant to say. You’ve done nothing but make me want to be a better man. I want to ask you to come back. Balin’s not yet started looking for a new English teacher, I’ve asked him to wait until I know for sure. But if you come back, I need to know you can commit to us. Again you don’t have to join the mafia. You don’t have to be a part of it. Just stay with me. Help me make Erebor a healthy and safe place to live if possible. But I need to know you won’t run away whenever you’re scared. I need you to trust me, Bilbo. Trust that I won’t hurt you. I can’t say there won’t be days when we fight, I know there will be, but I’d rather fight than have you walk on eggshells around me. I can’t bear seeing you afraid of me. I love you too much for that. I would never hurt you, Bilbo, you have to believe that. And if not, then okay. I’ll let you go.”

Bilbo stared at the table, trying not to cry. Thorin kissed his knuckles and finished his coffee before he stood, leaving a couple pounds for the coffee, and left. Bilbo pressed his fingers into his shut eyes and took a breath before packing up and returning home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter will be posted later today


	28. Chapter 28

**~Epilogue~**

**~Five Years Later~**

How they could make a wedding into a merger as well, Bilbo would never understand. But perhaps that was just how Erebor was run. One Mafia becoming three, then four and now it was…not quite three gangs now? He wasn’t quite sure how this would work, even though Thorin did try to explain it.

At least the grooms looked happy. Kili was positively beaming. Thorin may grumble as much as he wanted and Dis could put as much pressure on Frerin and Fili to get married to a girl all she liked, Bilbo was glad for Legolas and Kili.

“Why are you smirking?” Thorin whispered.

“Shush,” Bilbo said, pinching Thorin’s arm. Thorin rubbed the offended skin and slumped in his seat. Bilbo pecked his cheek just as the vows were exchanged.

“Had to marry into Mirkwood,” Thorin mumbled not for the first time. Bilbo nudged him. He was quite used to Thorin’s moods and this was not unlike it.

“Behave yourself,” he said. “Try to smile. It’s a wedding.”

“But my baby nephew!”

“Who is not so much of a baby anymore,” Bilbo said. “You’d do well to remember that.” Thorin grumbled a “yes dear” and welcomed Legolas into the Durin’s.

“How are you, Uncle?” Kili asked, beaming down at Bilbo.

“Well enough. Should we expect any excitement today?”

“No. God no! There’s a reason we invited _them_ ,” he motioned to Bolg, who was smirking at Sigrid. Bilbo was impressed no one had taken out guns yet. More so that no one had been stabbed in the crotch. (It had happened once. Thankfully not to him or anyone he knew personally. Still, he tended to fidget at the pain that would have caused.)

“All in all, it’s been rather smooth.”

“Which worries me,” Legolas said, glancing at them. “I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe.”

Bilbo patted his shoulder. “You two don’t worry. Thorin will take care of it.” Thorin glared at him and Bilbo pushed him ahead. “See you two at the reception.”

“Did you have to volunteer me to be their security guard?” Thorin asked as they headed to the opera house. “Shouldn’t Tauriel and Dwalin be enough?”

“Living here has taught me that there is no such thing as too much security,” Bilbo said, taking Thorin’s hand in his. “And it _is_ your precious baby nephew’s wedding…”

“Didn’t you just tell me that he’s not a baby anymore?”

“Doesn’t stop him from being the baby in your eyes,” Bilbo reminded him. “Besides, free food.”

Thorin scoffed. “The food we had at our wedding was anything _but_ free, Bilbo. You know that.”

“Yes, but that was Dis’ planning, not mine,” Bilbo reminded him with a smirk. “So in retrospect someone else took up the bill. Besides, the amount of money your family can make _anything_ seem free by comparison.” Thorin nodded. He could think of it that way. Bilbo’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he excused himself to answer. There was still time before dinner and dancing.

“Hello?”

“ _Mr. Baggins, this is Constable Sandyman at the Shire PD, could you possibly take the time to come down_?”

“Uh, not right now. Why?”

“ _You’re cousins Drogo and Primula Baggins were in a fatal collision four hours ago._ ” Bilbo leaned against the wall, feeling as though he’d been filled with lead.“ _A car’s been sent to pick up their son from daycare and they’ve listed you as Frodo Baggins’ legal guardian in the event of their deaths. Are you sure you cannot come to the station_?”

“I can be there tomorrow, but I live in Erebor?”

“ _Where_?”

“Southeast of London,” he said. “I’ll be there tomorrow, but for now, I…” Thorin appeared from behind the corner tapping his wrist. He stopped, amusement changing to concerned.

“Bilbo?”

Bilbo held up a finger.

“ _Tomorrow what time?_ ”

“Uh…I don’t know. Sometime in the afternoon, maybe. Frodo has an aunt I town he could stay with before I get there,” he said.

“ _We’ll give her a call, then. Tomorrow, Mr. Baggins._ ”

“Okay. Thank you.” He hung up, arm dropping to his side. Thorin approached. “My cousins…Frodo’s parents…” Thorin embraced him.

“Would you rather go home? I can take a moment to explain it to the others.”

Bilbo took a deep breath. “I just need to calm down. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be going tomorrow to pick up Frodo?”

“Uh, tonight, actually, if I want to get to the Shire in the afternoon,” Bilbo said.

Thorin pulled his phone out and sped-dialed Dwalin. “Bring the car around. I’ll explain later.”

“What are you doing? We can’t just—”

“I think Kili and Legolas will understand,” Thorin said, leading him to the car. Dwalin met them there. Thorin quickly explained what had just happened and where they were going while texting his sister the same thing. Once in the car, Bilbo fit his head between his legs, trying to breathe evenly.

#

“…can’t just leave him with _them_!” Bilbo heard Lobelia screech. “Who knows what will happen to Frodo if you hand him over to them!” He bit back a growl and entered the station, Thorin stood behind him, fixing Lobelia with a dark glare.

“Lobelia, if you’ve any complaints you can say them to me,” he said. Frodo jumped up and ran to him, hiding his face in his leg. Bilbo lifted him up. “I got you, Frodo. It’s okay. Remember Uncle Thorin? I need you to stay with him for a little bit, yeah?”

Frodo sniffed and nodded, Bilbo set him down and Frodo approached Thorin, who knelt down to try and cheer him up. Bilbo approached the desk.

“Mr. Baggins,” a man addressed approaching them. He held his hand out to Bilbo, “Constable Sandyman at your service. Thank you for coming down.”

“No I’m glad you called. Lobelia’s not giving you much trouble, is she?”

“Ha, she’s been using some anti-homosexual nonsense to convince us that Frodo was best off with his aunt or something like that,” he said. “Unfortunately for her, I know many homosexuals who make better parents than heterosexuals.”

Bilbo chuckled. It probably would be best to leave out that he was married to a Mafia boss. Then there would be an issue with him taking Frodo in. He answered a few questions—profession, living status, marital status, a bit about Thorin.

The usual.

Of course, he said Thorin was an entrepreneur rather than Durin’s boss.

He’d have to stay until the adoption papers were authorized which could be sometime before or after Frodo’s parents’ funeral, but beside that and Lobelia’s grievances the process wasn’t as difficult as he thought it’d be.

Lobelia had left at some point and Thorin kept rubbing his cheek while Frodo huddled against him.

Bilbo furrowed his brow. “What happened?”

“That shrew slapped me when she tried to take Frodo while you were still in there. Wasn’t hard to boot her out after,” he said, smirking. “A fuzz escorted her to her car.”

Bilbo laughed. “Okay, then, well, I think it’s time to go home for a bit, yeah?”

“What’ll happen to me now?” Frodo asked.

Bilbo sat on his other side. “You’re coming to live with me and Thorin,” he said. “In Erebor.”

“Is Erebor a nice place?”

Bilbo hummed. “Erebor is the kind of city you make it,” he said. “It may seem scary there at first, but after a while, you see below the surface and deep down, Erebor can be a very nice place. Same with the people you meet there. It’s the kind of place that will make you stronger than you used to be or thought you could be.”

Nice does not equal safe though. But that would be all right.

“Now, who’s hungry?” Bilbo asked.

“Can we get chicken strips?” Frodo asked.

Bilbo could do that. Thorin lifted him up. “We most certainly _can_ have chicken strips,” Thorin said. “What about fish sticks?” Frodo wrinkled his nose. “You don’t like fish? Good, neither do I.” Bilbo cleared his throat. “What?” He arched a brow. “Okay, I might like fish a little bit.”

Frodo giggled and Thorin set him down by the back seat.

“You love fish,” Bilbo said.

“Don’t tell him that!”

“You shouldn’t lie,” Bilbo said. “Lying’s a bad habit.”

“Or a useful—I’ll just shut up and get us to Prancy-P’s, right?”

“A wise decision,” Bilbo said, kissing him. “Thank you for this, Thorin, I know this isn’t…I don’t know what I’d do without you here with me.”

“And hopefully will never find out, Angel,” Thorin said, returning the kiss. “I love you.”

Bilbo grinned. “I love you too.”

Frodo opened the door. “Uncles! Stop making kissy faces and let’s go!”

“Okay, okay, we’re going!” Thorin said, opening the door for him. Bilbo slid in.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” Frodo said, fidgeting in his seat. Thorin climbed in and they pulled out of the parking lot. Bilbo glanced over his shoulder at Frodo, worried. He was quite expressive a moment ago. Now he stared out the window, almost blank. Bilbo sighed. He might still be processing the fact that his parents were…

He sighed and turned back around.

 _Come what may_ , he thought. _We’ll get through it_.


End file.
